


Backstage is Full of Parasites

by Falln_Grce



Series: Seeking For One Last Beacon [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adopted Isaac Lahey, Alpha Peter Hale, Angst, Bad Parenting, Child Neglect, Druids, F/M, Good Peter Hale, I promise, Independent Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Neglected Stiles Stilinski, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stiles Stilinski-centric, The Alpha Pack, The Hale Family, This story can be dark at times, Touch-Starved, and may trigger individuals with anxiety, even though he's not in the first chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:04:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falln_Grce/pseuds/Falln_Grce
Summary: A little tweak to the Teen Wolf universe where Stiles learned to take care of himself from a young age. And despite going through trauma as a child, he's 17 now and has adjusted to the new normal as well as he can. With a soulmate-AU just to keep things interesting.What if the Sheriff didn't turn to alcohol when his wife died... What if he focused all of his attention on helping a seven year old, recently removed from an abusive home, Isaac get settled into the Stilinski household... Where would Stiles fit into that world?





	1. Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story gets pretty dark. The conclusion is a happy ending, because that’s how all of my fics are designed. But the beginning and middle parts are dark. For anyone reading this who is fine with that, and who doesn’t want spoilers, you may want to skip the next part.  
.  
.  
.  
For anyone who would prefer to avoid a story that might contain triggering material regarding PTSD, child abuse, torture, and mental institutions, this story might not be right for you. Or, you may want to discuss some of the topics with a trusted friend, adult, or counselor.
> 
> For a list of specific warnings, please see the following: 
> 
> Child neglect, child abuse, absentee parent, indifferent parent, adopted child, favoritism from parent, fire setting, rejection, rejection from a soulmate, loss of a soulmate, isolation, sad child, abandoned child, loner child, child with no friends, child who doesn’t feel safe at home, child who feels unwanted, death of a parent, grief, trauma, a funeral, psychological trauma, lack of comforting support, hospitals, mental hospitals, medical malpractice, shady medical professionals, medical experimentation, filming of said medical experimentation, torture, solitary confinement, restraints, needles, drugs, blood, burns, scars, pain, guns, someone being shot, possession, death, murder, body mutilation, open rib cages, decapitating/ed corpses, burning dead bodies after they’ve been murdered, hallucinations, rage, extreme emotional states, bullies, mean girls, mean boys, mean people in general, high school, unhealthy relationships, betrayal, lies, threats, coercion, PTSD symptoms, Anxiety symptoms, description of panic attacks, supernatural creatures (the mean kind), Legal actions, lawsuits, mention of people who smoke, leaving home before the end of high school, memory loss, fugue state, amnesia, sudden onslaught of memories returning, dehydration, migraines, exhaustion, disappointment…
> 
> I’ve left this list open ended. If you have read the story, and discovered a trigger that was not listed here and would've felt more prepared, or decided not to continue had it been included, please let me know and I will add it to the list.

The first thing Peter did when he set foot on Hale territory was take a deep, calming breath; he’d been gone for almost three years.

At first the decision for Peter to head down to Argentina had been a request of his sister’s. But after settling the urgent business, Peter decided he was needed down there more than he was in Beacon Hills. The Castillo pack was a friend of the Hales, they had been for generations.

When the hunters came lurking, the pack was wary, but they didn’t think it would turn out as badly as it did. Even the most peaceful of werewolf packs, the ones who’ve never hurt an innocent and are not inclined to do so, are never that comfortable with a hunter clan setting up shop in their back yard.

Sure, they say they have a code, but very few werewolves have seen it in action.

The Hales had their own trouble with hunters in the past. A few years before Peter went down south, the Argent clan moved into town. Things were tense for a while, but just like the Castillo pack, the Hales thought everything would sort itself out.

What they didn’t see coming was Kate Argent trying to burn them all alive. She’d failed, of course and she was currently serving a life sentence in a State penitentiary a few hours away.

Preventing the attack happened completely by chance. Peter had been up late one night, well past the normal time he went to sleep, and caught Derek sneaking back in.

Derek was fifteen at the time and had a curfew. Normally, Peter wouldn’t have bothered reprimanding him, he was closer in age to Derek than he was to his sister, Talia. Despite having gone to university already.

He’d only been back home from school for about half a year and was still reacclimating to family life. He was about to make a snide comment to his nephew about sneaking out when he got a scent off the boy. Several, in fact.

He could smell sex, and strong perfume, but the one that had his eyes glowing gold was the scent of Argent. Families all smelled alike in a way, though each person’s scent was unique to themselves. But they carried the same underlying notes that marked them as blood relations.

The last time he’d smelled that particular scent was when his soulmate had formally rejected him. He’d known the man was older, and had spent hours upon hours learning everything he could about him. He’d known he was a hunter, but he had truly believed they could still work. It was his soulmate after all. Surely, things like hunters and werewolves took a back seat when you met the person fate had decided for you.

Peter used to be a bit of a romantic.

But having done the amount of research on the man that he had, Peter was in a pretty good position to know that there was no one in the Argent clan Derek’s age.

The youngest was his soulmate’s sister, Kate. And she had to be at least mid-twenties by then. Much too old for his nephew. He grabbed Derek’s shirt, twisting the startled teen closer to him and shouted for Talia to get down there.

After that, things moved pretty quickly. They had a little bit of difficulty with Derek, but Marcus, his father, took him for a walk one day. Just the two of them. Peter didn’t know what was said exactly, but Derek came back with a red face and wet eyes.

There was no guarantee the woman meant more harm than molesting their son, but there was no guarantee she didn’t either.

They prepared for the worst.

Under the house were a series of tunnels. The basement led to one obvious one, but there were four more. Each of them went out from the house for miles and ended in hidden family vaults. The closest one was about ten miles behind the main house, while the furthest one was below the local high school.

Access to each tunnel, and access to each vault required the claws of a Hale wolf to open. It was an extra bit of security for them, and it was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the Hale family.

Derek swore he hadn’t told Kate.

Over the next week, the pack moved the valuables underground. They’d already heard of hunters burning pack houses down, and in some cases, blowing them up.

Derek’s older sister, Laura was away in college thankfully. But his younger sister, Cora was only in the fourth grade. She didn’t really mind though. In the short time Peter had been back, Cora had latched onto him like a little limpet. A limpet with claws.

If Peter said they needed to do it, Cora took to it like it was the next great adventure.

Peter, Talia, and Marcus had confiscated Derek’s phone as soon as he’d been caught. And after Derek had talked to his dad, it wasn’t hard for them to get him to send her a text saying that he’d gotten caught sneaking back in and was grounded for their entire break at school. And that his phone was probably going to be taken away.

Her only reply was to tell him to make sure he deleted their conversations before that happened.

When they had everything in place, they had him text her again, saying that he wanted to see her, and since there was a big family gathering that weekend, he might be able to sneak away.

She replied almost immediately. She told him that it was perfect. She said she had a surprise for him, and she couldn’t wait to see his face when she gave it to him.

Although Peter was incensed at her brazen attitude, it didn’t outright confirm her motives. If her sole motivation was to sleep with a fifteen-year-old child, that was disgusting enough, and Peter would see her dead or behind bars for that alone. If she was planning an attack, they were ready for her.

The outcome of that night didn’t end well for Kate. Peter lobbied for her death, and the death of her accomplices, but Talia said no.

They’d called the fire department and the police from their hiding spots in the forest as soon as they smelled the gasoline. Peter couldn’t kill her, but he could knock her unconscious until she could be arrested. Small wins. 

Talia had come to stand over her with Peter after she and Marcus had done the same to the others. She looked up at the house, completely engulfed in flames by then. “Well, I wanted to remodel the kitchen anyway.”

Peter gave a silent laugh and side-eyed his sister before pulling her under his arm. Derek and Cora were safe in the tunnels, far from the house, and Marcus was tying up the bodies in case they woke up before the police got there. 

After that night, they were able to broker a deal with the Argents that gave Peter a bit of breathing room from his former soulmate. He didn’t feel the pain of the rejection anymore, but the memories of that experience would be with him for the rest of his life.

The only acceptable recompense Talia would agree to take from the Argents was quite simple really: Get the hell out of Beacon Hills and don’t come back.

News had spread of what Kate had done, both to Derek and the fire. That, coupled with Gerard’s two-faced dealings at the summit a few years prior had left the Argent name in the dirt.

No wolves trusted any of their delegations, and the other hunter clans steered clear of their reputation.

The Hale pack, on the other hand, received an endless show of support as they rebuilt. They had allies spread out across the globe after that.

Which was why Peter had been down in Argentina.

In the years since the fire, Peter had fallen comfortably into the role as the Alpha’s left hand. He had a single-minded focus to the pack’s safety and expressed little remorse when that security was earned with blood.

While the Hale name was respected and admired among werewolves, the name Peter Hale was feared. Visiting packs always became a little more formal when he joined in on discussions. Talia teased him about it often, considering _she_ was the alpha.

But Argentina saw a change to that.

He honestly hadn’t expected to be away that long. Getting the hunters out of their territory was a long drawn out affair, and by the time they’d succeeded, the Castillo pack requested his assistance for a little longer.

Their emissary had felt a black cloud headed their way, and Peter had worked with the man long enough to know his ‘premonitions’ were rarely inaccurate.

Seven months after things had settled down for the Castillo’s, the alpha pack came to town. They were smart, and ruthless, and _alphas_.

The Argentina chapter ended with the Castillo’s retreating to their extended family in Europe, the alpha pack down a member, and Peter as an alpha.

He’d never cared for Ennis much anyway.

He’d called Talia as soon as he was in his car driving north. He told her what happened, and she talked him through the power changes he would be feeling over the next month or so. She suggested he find a place to hole up in, ride out the settling. But he couldn’t imagine being away from his pack after that.

The rest of the alphas would be coming for him. He knew they would. He wanted his pack. And Talia agreed after she heard the worry in his voice that he should get home as soon as he could. They could prepare together.

He was relieved to say the least. His alpha still accepted him, even though he was one now too. And she and Marcus could join Peter in protecting the family. Marcus had taken over Peter’s role in his absence, and he had been doing a damn fine job.

Getting settled back in California was amusing to say the least. Laura and Derek were back from New York. Both having completed their college aspirations; Laura with a Masters, and Derek with a Bachelors.

Laura was jealous of Peter for the first few days. She was being trained as the alpha’s heir, and wasn’t pleased that Peter had gotten there first.

Derek didn’t really care one way or another, but Cora was over the moon excited. When they told the kids about his new status, Cora had jumped off the couch and threw herself at Peter for a hug, shouting, “Oh thank god!”

As soon as she released him, she turned to her mother and declared, “I swear to god, if I have to pick a different alpha than you one day, I pick Peter.” She turned to look at Laura’s obstinate expression. “I’d rather go omega than pick anyone else.”

Before the girls could get into an argument, which happened more often than not if they were in the same room lately, Talia redirected their attention to the threat headed their way.

They gave the kids a crash course on the alpha pack and its members, and Marcus added a bit about a threat already on their doorstep.

There was a rogue in the woods. So far, it had only attacked wildlife, but it was considered dangerous and they wanted them all to be careful. There was reason for Marcus to believe it might be a feral alpha.

Talia hadn’t been kidding when she told Peter she was worried for his adjustment to the alpha power. Many wolves cracked under the weight. Peter had been handling it fine, but she was keeping an eye on him just in case.

With the updates over, Marcus and Peter got ready to head out to patrol the preserve. He’d been unsuccessful tracking the rogue before, but the two of them together might have better luck.

And they did.

They were closing in on it when they heard a scream up ahead, then another one. They quickly made their way closer, but Peter pulled his brother-in-law down hard when he saw streams of flashlights in the direction they were headed.

They crept closer while staying low, and watched several deputies checking over two teenaged boys.

“Isaac!” they heard one of the men call out as they watched him rush over to the kids. “What are you doing out here? Are you hurt?”

The boy was clutching at his side and he gestured to the other one who was doing the same. “We heard there was a search party and wanted to come help.”

“You mean you listened in on my phone call and heard there was a body in the woods, and came to check it out,” the man shot back, but was smiling at the boy and pulling him in for a hug. “Are you okay? Both of you? Why are you two holding your sides like that?”

“There was a dog!” The other boy spoke up. “We heard growling and then it knocked us down and bit us.”

The man looked concerned now, lifting the first boy’s shirt so he could see the wound.

“Hey is it true you only found half of the body?” the second boy asked.

“That’s not something you should be talking about,” he told them both in a stern tone. “Come on, lets get you to the hospital to get those checked out.”

“No! We can’t go there, my mom’s working tonight.”

The deputy, or sheriff, as Peter heard the other deputies call him, chuckled as he put an arm around both of them and led them away. “And that’s something you should have thought about before you came out here tonight. As well as the giant rabies shot I’m going to have her give you when we get there.”

Peter and Marcus turned away as the boys were grumbling and the sheriff was laughing. They had a wolf to catch.

When they find him and see the eyes flash red, Peter offers the kill to Marcus. “We need all the help we can get right now,” he tells him.

He called Talia to come meet them in the woods afterwards and they both got Marcus back to the house and underground in case things go poorly. Talia was pissed at Peter at first, but her husband assured her it was his choice.

“We don’t have time for this,” Peter said as he got up to head back out. “Marcus, fill her in on the details.”

“What are you talking about?” Talia asked, shocked Peter would leave after what just happened. “Fill me in on what?”

Peter gave her a cold look, one she was used to seeing on his face when he was fixing a problem for the pack. “The alpha bit two teenagers in the forest tonight. They’re fine, but they’re at the hospital. I need to see if they’re turning.” He let out a sigh and turned back to Marcus. “Get some sleep. If you haven’t gone crazy yet, you’ll be fine. I’ll see you both in the morning.”

The good news was the full moon had been a few nights prior. So if the boys did end up turning, they’d have almost a month to get them ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this and are a little confused because Stiles was completely absent from the chapter... I just want to say thank you for reading, and I promise the next chapter will be Stiles-heavy! 
> 
> As you go forward, please remember this story does get very dark, particularly around Chapter 10. 
> 
> If any of my stories have caused you to re-experience a traumatic event in your own life, and you are struggling with it, I am including a link to crisis hotlines and an important message from message from a crisis hotline website: 
> 
> https://www.allaboutcounseling.com/crisis_hotlines.htm  
OR  
https://www.opencounseling.com/hotlines-us 
> 
> Remember…help is a phone call away.
> 
> In any crisis, if you are in immediate danger, call 911.
> 
> If you cannot call 911, proceed to the nearest Hospital Emergency Room to ask for assistance. Regardless of the type of crisis, the Emergency staff will contact whichever branch of crisis intervention service is appropriate to get you the help you need.
> 
> If you cannot locate a Hospital Emergency Room, proceed to the nearest Fire Station or nearest Police Station, where the staff will provide help and connect you with the appropriate crisis intervention service you need.


	2. Chapter 2

School had never been Stiles’ favorite place; not even when he was little. He can remember snippets of elementary school, where he’d always wanted to be somewhere other than locked in a classroom listening to the woman in front teaching them their letters. Stiles already knew his letters.

Then they were teaching them to read, and math, and the whole time Stiles was bored because he already knew that. His mom had already taught him.

He remembers two moments from early school. Both happened within a year of each other and both involved learning to tie shoelaces. He could always be mistaken; memories of early youth were often jumbled. But to his recollection, they spent an entire day in kindergarten learning to tie shoelaces.

He’d been upset when he got home that day. When he’d asked his mom why he had to go to school, she said it was because they were going to teach him things that she didn’t know. So when they spent an entire day learning to tie shoelaces, something Stiles _already knew_, he thought she might have tricked him.

That afternoon had ended with cookies and hugs and promises from his mother that she wasn’t trying to just send him away. But it also ended with her sitting him down and explaining that people sometimes learn at different speeds. And that Stiles was a really fast learner, faster than other people. So he had to be patient with the other kids.

Patience was never something he was good at, but he decided he would try for his mom. Which turned into the only other memory he really has of that time. Scott.

Scott was not a fast learner.

He met Scott on the playground in the first grade, but Scott was still in kindergarten. Stiles had watched him struggling one day, near tears because the other kids had laughed at him for his shoelaces being mixed up. So, he pulled the boy aside during recess, behind the tables where people couldn’t really see them if they crouched down.

They spent nearly the whole recess there, with Stiles teaching Scott how to do it. Then making him practice over and over like his mom had done for him.

While he doesn’t remember the rest of whatever school was supposed to teach him, he does remember some of first and second grade when Scott was his best friend.

And he remembers when that wasn’t true anymore.

When he was eight, his mom got sick. At the beginning, Stiles had no concept of ‘sick’ beyond a cold. And his mom didn’t have a cold.

He learned though. Just like with everything else, his mom taught him what it meant to be sick. She never lied to him about it, she told him that she would be gone soon. Looking back at that, Stiles still can’t tell if he was grateful for the truth, or if he wished he hadn’t known.

But it gave them time together. Stiles understood, even as a child, that he needed to make sure he spent as much time with his mom as possible because she wouldn’t be there forever.

He wanted it to be just the two of them, but that was kind of difficult with the recent addition of Isaac in their home. His parents had sat him down one day and told him that Isaac’s dad wasn’t a very nice man, and that the boy was going to come live with them.

He didn’t want to share his mom at first. But she told him that Isaac doesn’t have anybody else to love him. He wasn’t as lucky as Stiles. So he needed to try his best and be Isaac’s friend.

Being his friend apparently meant sharing all of his things with the boy. They moved another bed into Stiles’ room, and pretty soon Stiles’ toys were _Stiles’ and Isaac’s _toys. Stiles comics were _Stiles’ and Isaac’s _comics.

Instead of feeling like it was something he wanted to do, Stiles was resentful. But that wasn’t what his parents wanted, so he kept those thoughts to himself.

When Scott went from being Stiles’ best friend to _Stiles’ and Isaac’s _best friend, he climbed up to his treehouse in the backyard and cried for hours. The treehouse was his. And only his. Isaac was scared of heights and refused to climb up there. He could be safe from _sharing _in his treehouse. So over the next little while, Stiles started to secret his favorite comics and toys up there, and took his quilt that his mom made for him and a few pillows to be comfortable.

His dad couldn’t figure out how Stiles had ‘lost’ all his pillows from his bed when he had to buy more. But his mom knew what was happening. She never confronted him outright, but one day she gave him a camping lantern and showed him how to put in the batteries.

He remembers one day, shortly before his mom deteriorated to the point where she was in the hospital, when she picked him up from school. He remembers because she picked him up after he’d only just got there. 

She said it was going to be a day for just the two of them. They didn’t go anywhere special, his mom had errands to run, but she wanted them to spend time together. Stiles was happy for the focused attention and didn’t care about not going to the park.

She took him to the auto shop where she said she needed to get some work done on the Jeep. The mechanic she talked to seemed really nice, and happy to meet him, and he let Stiles and his mom hang out in the garage while he did something under the hood. His mom said he was a friend, and Stiles thought it was really cool that he could get as dirty as he wanted to working on cars and no one cared.

His mom told him that when he got older, the Jeep would be his. He was really happy for that, but despaired when she said he’d have to wait until he was sixteen. “But that’s gonna take forever!” he groaned, much to the amusement of his mom and her friend.

Still, it was a good day. A happy memory, and the last one that Stiles remembers.

After that, his memories are full of hospitals, being alone, his mom not remembering who he was, the machines hooked up to his mom flatlining when he was holding her hand, the funeral, his dad focused on Isaac, his dad yelling about his report card, his dad yelling about Stiles playing with matches and “Where are they Stiles!?” but he didn’t have any matches.

And he remembered the day his father checked him into Eichen House. He was nine.

The doctors and nurses there were scary, not like the ones from the hospital with his mom. He didn’t really understand why he was there, and when his father would visit he told Stiles that he was sick, so he needed to be there until he got better.

But in Stiles’ nine-year-old mind, sick meant he would be gone soon. And he couldn’t understand why his father would send him away instead of spending time with him like he’d done with his mom.

Try as he might now, Stiles can’t recall much else from his time there. He gets flashes, and he has nightmares where he’s walking in a long tunnel and then there’s a table and doctors around him. He feels the ghost of a needle prick on his arm and neck sometimes, and scratches at both until it goes away. But other than an overwhelming sense of panic whenever he hears the name of the place, he can’t recall any other concrete memories.

By the time he got out, he was just turning eleven. School had already started, and he was now in the class behind him. With Scott, and Isaac, and their friend Jackson. He hated Jackson.

When he got home, the other bed had been taken out of his room, and it wasn’t actually Stiles’ room anymore. His dad said that Isaac had already gotten comfortable in there, and had all his things in there, so they had moved Stiles’ bed to the other room down the hall.

Never mind that all of _Isaac’s things _had been Stiles’ things at one point.

But he moved into his new room without complaint. It was fine. Except for the nightmares that came most of the time he was asleep. A couple weeks after he got back, Stiles overheard his father on the phone. It was a one-sided conversation from Stiles’ perspective, but he got the picture when his dad started saying things like “he’s just not adjusting” and “maybe he needs more time in Eichen” and “He seemed to get better when he was there, it might be good for him.”

After that, Stiles started locking his door at night. He knew that if he went to sleep, he’d wake his dad up with his screaming, so he tried to stay awake. But that didn’t last long. Eventually, the exhaustion and maybe being a little delirious, Stiles looked out his window and noticed his old treehouse. It was really close to the far corner of the roof, with tree branches stretching out over the shingles like they were reaching towards his window; welcoming him to come closer.

And that was one decision made. Stiles opened the window and climbed out, carefully walking across the roof until he could climb into the treehouse. The pillows were dusty, but it didn’t seem like there was any mold or anything, so he curled up, tugged the quilt over himself, and slept.

It was the best sleep he’d had in a while. When he woke up, the sky was just turning a light gray and the birds were chirping right outside the window. He got up, looked around the place and smiled a bit before heading back to the house.

Yeah, he could do this. If he could keep his dad from having to wake up to his nightmares, then his dad wouldn’t send him back. He could do this. 

His eleventh year saw him sleeping in the treehouse fulltime. And when he overheard Scott tell Isaac they should play up there after school one day, he removed each of the planks nailed into the tree as a ladder.

He didn’t need a ladder anyway; he could just walk across the roof.

By the time he was fourteen, he’d already researched insulation for the walls. He’d asked his dad for a laptop for Christmas the year before, and his dad thought it was a good idea for both him and Isaac to do their schoolwork.

Isaac wanted one that he could play games with Scott on, but Stiles didn’t need anything fancy. Just something for school, sure. But mostly for the internet. He did _a lot_ of research on construction and building treehouses.

When he got his license at sixteen, he’d already realized the ‘upgrades’ to the treehouse were going to cost more money than he had. Which was another way of saying he didn’t have _any_ money. 

He didn’t get an allowance, and besides his father had already fulfilled his parental obligations by taking Stiles to get his permit and giving him his moms old Jeep. Besides the laptop at thirteen, it’d been the first thing Stiles had asked for from his dad in years. 

So the Jeep was his freedom to build, in a way. If he had transportation, he could get a job. If he got a job, he could make money. And if he made money, he could buy building materials. And the Jeep could transport it all back to the house. It was perfect.

That being said, the Jeep was only useful if he could drive it. His father had given it to him, yes. The driving practice however, had not been with his dad. 

One of his dads deputies, Jordan Parrish had dropped by with some case files one night when Stiles had been alone in the house, making himself a snack. 

He made a remark about the Jeep parked on the curb, “Man that’s so retro, that’s badass. Is it one of your neighbors’?”

Stiles had explained that no, it was his, it wasn’t really starting at the moment.

Jordan had still been in uniform, so he grabbed his flashlight from his belt and told Stiles to get the keys and “Well, let’s take a look!” After tinkering with it for about an hour, Jordan declared it was probably the battery. “Hey, O’Reilly’s is open till ten, let’s go see if they’ve got a new one.”

Stiles had told him that he didn’t have any money yet. The Jeep had lasted long enough for him to apply for and get two jobs in town, but now it wouldn’t start, so he wasn’t able to get to work. 

“That’s alright, it can be my treat. Like a birthday present,” Jordan offered. But when he saw the uncomfortable look on Stiles’ face, he backtracked a little. “Or it can be a loan. I know your boss, so I know you’re good for it.”

“You know Annie?” Stiles asked in surprise. She was the manager at the diner where Stiles had got a job as a server.

Jordan smiled over at him, “Yeah, but I meant the other one. Steve. He’s a good buddy of mine. He told me you applied, and I told him it would probably be a really good fit for both of you.”

“Like a reference? I told him I didn’t have any of those.” The uncomfortable look on Stiles’ face was back.

Jordan decided in that moment not to treat Stiles with kid gloves. He’d been engaging in conversation so far that night, and while the sheriff had told him that his son had ‘troubles’ Jordan hadn’t seen signs of a delinquent so far. He’d seen a lonely kid who needed a friend.

“I mean, kind of,” he answered. “But really it was just two buddies hanging out. It’s not like he called me up to talk about you specifically.” 

“Oh.” Stiles seemed to be more okay with that explanation.

Jordan smiled, his instincts had been right. “So about that battery, we going?”

“Yeah, yes.” With the wariness out of the way, Stiles seemed excited. “Let me just grab my jacket. Do you want to wash up first?” He gestured to Jordan’s hands that we’re black from working under the hood. 

“Nah, just going to get dirty again when we get back. But I’ll take a rag if you have one.” He had one in the trunk of his car, but he wanted to let the kid feel helpful.

Stiles rushed into the house and came back with both a rag and a cold water bottle for each of them.

“Oh hey, thanks man.” Jordan smiled at the water. Yeah, he’d been very right. Stiles was good people. It was a small thing, but it showed he was think of the other man’s comfort as well as his own. “Okay let’s go.” 

They ended up getting the battery and putting it in that night. It was almost eleven by the time they were finished, and Jordan asked where Noah was. 

“I’m not sure,” he told him. “Isaac was with Scott all day at his house, so my dad probably stopped by there to get him.”

Jordan didn’t say anything, but the sheriff had left the office before him. Even if he did stop to pick up Isaac, he still should’ve been back we’ll before then. 

“So when’s he taking you out driving in this beast? I gotta know when to stay off the roads,” he joked. 

“Oh, um. I’m not sure actually.” Jordan watched as Stiles ducked his head a little and scratched the side of his neck. “I mean I haven’t asked him yet.”

Stiles had already figured it out himself. A lot of YouTube videos and some hands-on trial and error. But he would need the hours logged with a licensed driver in order to go from a provisional license at sixteen to an actual one by the time he turned seventeen. 

Jordan was starting to get a picture of what the inner working of the Stilinski house might be. And it didn’t really match up to the man he knew at the station. Or the man he’d seen with Isaac at the department functions. He didn’t like where it was headed either.

“I could take you out,” he offered softly. At Stiles' look of uncertainty, he pressed, “Come on, kid. You need hours behind the wheel, and I got free time on my hands. It’s not going to put me out to give you some driving lessons.”

He considered it for a moment and tentatively agreed, and they set up some dates to practice, starting with the next day. 

“How bout this,” Jordan said as he closed the hood. “Tomorrow’s my day off. I’ll get a buddy of mine to drop me off here in the morning, you’ll drive us to your school, and I want to take this into Steve to check something out.”

“Is there something else wrong with it?” Stiles asked.

“No, no,” Jordan reassured him. “Just want to make sure things are hooked up right. And Steve’s got a better eye for that than me. When you get out of school, I’ll meet you in the parking lot and we can get some more practice in.”

Jordan had mentally started a laundry list of things wrong with the Jeep, but he didn’t want to spring that on the kid just yet. And Steve wasn’t going to charge him for it, so there wasn’t really a reason to worry him. 

“Seven thirty sound good?” he asked.

Stiles agreed quickly and thanked him profusely, saying that if anything came up and he had to cancel that it was totally fine. Jordan accepted it gracefully, and told him to head inside and get some sleep, he’d be back with coffee in the morning.

So after getting his provisional license at 16, and starting his two jobs, Stiles had enough money to not only pay for gas and Jeep repairs, which he’d found out about, but he also had the funds and help to tear down the treehouse and weather proof a new one. As soon as the walls were up, he went back to sleeping there every night. 

The near month of time he spent sleeping in the house again had been awkward, and he was often times too on edge to get any decent sleep. 

His father never knew. 

At seventeen, about to be eighteen in a few months, Stiles started his junior year of high school. The rest of his peers were mostly younger than him, but it was only by a year so that wasn’t too bad.

What did suck, was the fact that the entire school seemed to know about his time in Eichen House. The only way they would know that is if Isaac or Scott had told them. What probably happened was that they told their friend, Jackson, and he told everyone.

He tried not to feel resentful towards them. It had happened when they were very young kids, so they probably weren’t really being malicious when they shared that bit of gossip. But as they got older, Stiles got used to their treatment turning a bit more mean-spirited than it had been when he was eleven.

He didn’t really spend time with Isaac or Scott when he got back, by choice. And by the time he turned seventeen, he was already working two jobs so he didn’t have time for them even if they wanted to.

He’d already been out in the treehouse for the night the evening before the first day of Junior year. So he never heard the phone call come in for his dad about a body in the woods. And he never heard Isaac sneak out of the house after his dad left.

But on the very first day back, they cornered him in the parking lot after school.

“Hey man, I need you to drive Scott to the preserve,” Isaac said in greeting, Scott trailing behind him.

Stiles stopped as he was unlocking his door. “Um, no?” he said. “I’ve got a shift starting soon.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Yeah, me too. And you know Deaton hates it when I’m late.”

Isaac worked part-time at the local veterinary with Scott. They usually had the same days on, but not that day. While Isaac had his own dirt bike to get him to work, Scott didn’t. Oh, he was getting one, but his mom was still putting together the money to buy it.

“I get it, but I still have to go to work,” Stiles told him. “Sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Look,” Isaac started, dropping the friendly tone he’d started with. “Scott dropped his inhaler in the woods last night, and he kinda needs that. You know, to keep him alive? So, could you just be a decent person for once and help us out?”

“What were you doing in the woods last night?” Stiles asked.

“What does it matter?” Isaac exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “He needs that inhaler, and I’ve got to get to work. What do you care about that diner job anyway? So you don’t make as much money this week to spend on whatever it is you spend your money on! So what. I actually have a job that matters. Deaton has a surgery this afternoon he needs my help with.”

“Gas, Isaac,” Stiles told him. “I spend the money on gas.”

“Oh whatever dude.” Another eye roll. “You know dad gives us gas money every week. You don’t have to lie. Look, he’s starting to wheeze again. Are you gonna take him or not?

Stiles felt his teeth grind at Isaac’s reference to his father as ‘dad’ and was about to make a comment that no, he did not receive money for gas each week, but he looked over at Scott and the boy _did_ look like he was having trouble breathing. 

“Get in,” he told Scott as he pulled out his phone to text his boss that he got delayed at school. He didn’t bother saying anything to Isaac, but the boy stood back as he opened his door and climbed in behind the wheel.

A quick glance up showed Isaac glaring at him like Stiles was the actual devil. Whatever, he’d take Scott to the woods, however long that took, and drop him off at home, and _hopefully_ make it to work before the dinner rush.

They couldn’t find the inhaler.

Stiles looked up at the sky at one point noticing the blue start to bleed into gray and checked the time again. God, this was taking longer than he could afford.

There wasn’t much conversation between the two of them, and Stiles was keeping a slow pace to prevent Scott’s asthma from acting up. Although he looked much better out in the woods than he did in the parking lot. Which was odd, considering they’d been walking for a while, and at the school, Scott had just been standing there.

He was lost in pondering the disparity when a voice stopped them in their tracks. “What are you doing here?” He shot his head up at the sound an immediately recognized the man.

Derek Hale. Stiles knew exactly who Derek was. Back in the fourth grade, Derek and his mom had come to his school to pick up his little sister, Cora. She was Isaac’s age which meant she was now a Junior as well. But Derek was six years older than them.

He’d already been away to college and Stiles envied him his escape. But that’s not the reason he remembers Derek.

He remembers who he is because when he’d come to pick up Cora, he’d been wearing a short-sleeved shirt. And right there on his forearm, Stiles had seen his soul mark. The dark tattoo everyone was born with, unique to themselves and one other person in this world. It matched his own.

When he’d first noticed it, it was right after he’d lost his mother. So, he’d had no one to tell really. But he’d been so sad at the time. And he missed his mother like crazy, and things weren’t going so well at home anymore. 

He’d had dreams after that day, that Derek would come up to him in school one day (even though he didn’t go to the same school) and want to be Stiles’ friend. He would spend whole hours looking at his mark; it was a dark teardrop with a perfect empty circle in the center, surrounded from the bottom with tribal-looking lashes fanning out towards the top. Stiles always thought it looked like a drop of water splashed on a fire.

But then Eichen happened, and then Derek left, and Cora stopped going to school, and then, and then, and then.

No time for those thoughts at that moment, though, because Derek was striding towards them. “Huh?” he was apparently wanting them to answer. “This is private property.”

“Hey, yeah I know man,” Scott responded. “But I dropped my inhaler out here last night. Are you Derek? I met your uncle last night at the hospital. He said I could come look for it.”

Stiles was confused. Why had Scott been at the hospital? What?

Derek reached into his jacket pocket and tossed the lost inhaler in their direction. “You’re Scott?” he asked.

Scott grinned back “Yeah! He said he was gonna introduce you guys to us later, but hey, now we’ve met!”

Derek took a deep breath in and asked “Who’s this?” Gesturing to Stiles.

“Oh, he’s my best friend’s brother. I kinda needed a ride, so I didn’t think you guys would mind if I brought him.”

Stiles watched Derek’s face soften a bit, but not at Stiles. He sighed and told Scott to just call next time so they knew he’d be out there.

Stiles, he ignored entirely.

It didn’t hurt, but yeah. It totally hurt. Physically too. When Derek turned around to stalk away, after not even really acknowledging Stiles directly at all, he felt a burning pain shoot through his arm and center on his soul mark. With the jacket covering it up, he couldn’t check to see if it was actually burning, but he felt it.

“Come on,” he muttered to Scott. “I’ll drop you at your house.” 

“What? No. I need to go to the hospital.” Scott sent back as he stumbled after Stiles’ retreating back. “I was going to meet my mom there so she could take me shopping later.”

“She can just pick you up from home then.”

“Yeah, but the malls closer to the hospital than my house…” The boy’s tone suggested Stiles was slow for not having realized that.

He was trying to be patient, but it was already getting late, and he really needed to get to work. “Yeah, and the hospital’s in the complete opposite direction from the diner. I need to get to work man.”

“Come on, please?” Puppy eyes had never really worked on Stiles. He didn’t know why Scott was trying that tactic. “My mom’s always tired after work. If she comes all the way home, she’s not gonna want to go back out.”

And then Scott tried a different method. “You don’t want Isaac to tell your dad you were being selfish, do you?”

Sympathy couldn’t sway him. And he’d like to be able to say threats didn’t either. But he’d cultivated a nice personal bubble when it came to him and his dad. The less the man questioned Stiles about anything the better. He’d be eighteen soon, and the last thing he needed at the moment was his father upset with him.

He had some money in savings after working for the last two years. But he’d need a lot more if his dad decided Stiles should strike out on his own. He wanted to say his dad would never do that while he was still in high school, but he’d witnessed the man capitulating to Isaac’s requests too many times to be completely confident.

The only reply he gave Scott was to mutter to the boy to hurry up. He drove him to the hospital and made it to the diner as the place was in full swing.

The dinner rush lasted about three, maybe four hours. And even though he’d been late, he made decent tips.

Annie, his manager called him to take a break with her before he cleaned up his station for the night. She’d ordered them the Ultimate Nachos and had set out an extra plate when he sat down to join her.

She didn’t really give him a hard time, not sincerely, but she did joke about “What, did you get detention on your first day back?” when he started to eat.

He snorted around a mouthful and recounted the situation with Isaac and Scott’s missing inhaler for her. He didn’t tell her the name, but he did tell her that he ran into his soulmate while he was out in the woods.

She was excited for him, but one look at his withdrawn face sobered her up. “Why do I get the feeling that it wasn’t a good meeting?”

He shrugged. “It’s what it was, I guess. He didn’t even look at me.”

“Oh kid,” Annie sighed. “You said he was older, right?” She waited for the nod. “So maybe he was just distracted by work or something. Plus, if he’s older and hasn’t met you yet, well, some people stop looking for their soulmate or expecting them to show up after a certain age.”

He shook his head and took a breath before telling her, “It was burning when he walked away. The mark, my mark. I could feel it burning.”

He knew she knew what that meant. Everyone did. It wasn’t unheard of for one soulmate to reject the other one. Everyone had a soul mark on their right forearm. Even if a soulmate dies, the mark is still there on the other person, it’s just faded. But everyone had one. 

Except for the people who didn’t.

When one person rejected the other one, their soul mark faded until it disappeared. But for the person who got rejected, it was awful.

Their mark didn’t fade, it burned. Literally. The mark burned into their skin so deep that the person would always have webs of scar tissue covering the area for the rest of their life. And that said nothing about the mental anguish they experienced. There were a lot of people who experienced a complete mental shutdown after being rejected by their soulmate. The odds of coming through that sane and whole were about 50-50.

“Stiles, that doesn’t mean it’s actually going to happen,” Annie told him. “He doesn’t know who you are yet. You can’t know it’s going to turn out like that until… well, just until, okay?”

He nodded back, playing around with one of the chips on his plate, but didn’t say anything.

“Did I ever tell you about my best friend in high school?” Annie asked.

He thought about it for a minute and shook his head. They’d talked a lot since he started working there. He liked Annie, and she’d always seemed to like him back. It was actually Annie’s husband who hooked him up with the job at the auto shop.

“Well,” she started, “The summer after we graduated high school, my best friend went through a mate rejection.” 

“What happened to her?” Stiles asked, looking up to see her face.

“Him.” She corrected with a smile. “And things were tough for him for a while. He started traveling a lot. Got into Cambridge, left for six years. And ever since then he’s in and out. He’s just recently come back from being gone for three more years. Says he was working on research for a new book down in South America.”

“That sounds pretty cool, I guess.” Stiles meant it, too. To get to travel, to see the world, to be an author with nothing tying him to any one place sounded kind of fantastic, really.

“Yea, he loves it,” she agreed. “What I’m saying is that even if this goes to an all-out rejection, which we don’t know is happening yet, things can still turn out okay. It may not feel like it now, but you’re gonna be okay, Stiles. You’re strong, just like my friend was. If it happens, I know,” She waived a hand in front of his face to get his attention, “Hey, look at me. I _know_ you’re going to be okay. Okay?”

He nodded back and gave her a grimace of a smile. Points for effort though.

“Okay.” She gave one, quick nod of her own. “Well my break is done, but you should finish those nachos before you clean up. You’re getting too skinny, kid.” She ruffled his hair on her way back up front and kept an eye on him from the register.

He sat at the table for a few more minutes, playing with the food more than eating it. He really did need to gain a few pounds. Overall, Stiles was a good-looking kid, clear skin, golden brown eyes and a dark auburn shade of hair styled well. He’d had a growth spurt recently, which might be the reason he looks so skinny, and he could stand to get a haircut.

But if someone was looking at just the outside, there was nothing about Stiles that would make them ‘worried’. He looked like a normal teenager.

But Annie had come to know him pretty well in the almost two years he’d been working there. He didn’t form close connections with that many people, herself excluded. And he never had friends stop by. In fact, when the local teenagers came in, Stiles would always ask to switch tables if he could. It got to the point where she didn’t seat them in his section anymore.

She knew, through their conversations, that he wasn’t close to his father, or his adopted brother. But he was close to Steve. Her husband’s brother rented an apartment from Steve. And right after Stiles had got the server job, he’d asked Annie if she knew anyone who was hiring on the weekends.

She’d liked him from the start, and when she told her husband about him, he suggested the auto shop. Stiles went in to interview and got the assistant position. It was good, but it was also sad when she thought about it. A seventeen-year-old should be spending time with friends, having fun. Not working two jobs seven days a week.

From the day she met him, she’d thought _‘this is the oldest sixteen-year-old I’ve ever met’_. And that hadn’t really changed.

Looking back over at Stiles, she was disappointed but not surprised when he got up and tossed the rest of the nachos in the trash before starting to breakdown his station. She really did need to find a way to get him to eat more.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the week at school went by exactly as Stiles expected it to. He went to class, got his assignments and completed as much of them as he could in class, knowing his free time would be limited outside of school. And he kept to himself.

He’d gotten tired of the way the rumors about him had spread so quickly, and how they seemed to have endured so far. Even when the rest of the class, or the whole school even, had someone else’s drama to focus on, they never really forgot about Stiles.

He was well-known in every grade, despite not having any friends.

His time in Eichen, the _amount _of time he’d spent in Eichen meant that every teenager and some of the teachers in the school were wary of him. They still whispered about him when he walked by, but is it really a whisper if he could hear them?

So just like he’d done last year, he didn’t bother with the cafeteria for lunch. He’d done enough research on his own to know that he probably had an anxiety disorder of some kind. He knew about the ADHD, of course he did, but the symptoms for an anxiety disorder seemed to fit.

When he’d looked it up, he’d also looked up homeopathic and non-traditional ways of dealing with it. There wasn’t a force on this earth that would make Stiles willingly submit himself to therapy again.

It was strange sometimes, what would trigger anxiety. Being in small spaces didn’t bother him; it wasn’t like the treehouse was a mansion, and Stiles had always felt safe there. But going into that cafeteria made him feel like the walls were closing in.

Talking to other people didn’t bother him either, he was a server for crying out loud. And the crowded, fast-paced energy of the diner was almost soothing to him at times. But the idea of talking in class made him uneasy.

He understood that a lot of his ‘triggers’ seemed to be centered around the school, so as soon as he could, starting as a sophomore when he was sixteen, Stiles left the campus for a coffee everyday at lunch.

It usually took the entire lunch hour to drive to Starbucks across town, get his tall house coffee and sometimes a scone, and drive back. But the time and distance were a gift, and the coffee usually calmed him down.

He was hoping he’d grow out of the ADHD, and maybe what he had was just called ADD now. But he’d looked into that too. When he realized the coffee would send him to sleep sooner than keep him awake, he accepted that his brain was just wired that way.

He didn’t care for the Adderall dosage they had him on, so he self-regulated mostly. It was easy when he was the one picking up his refills anyway.

On Friday, something new happened. His History teacher announced that they would be paired up with one other student from class, their partner for the final report due at the end of the semester. It was worth 30% of their final grade.

He was nervous at first but when the teacher called his name, she announced his partner was Cora Hale.

If there was anyone with a ‘freakshow’ label at school besides himself, it was Cora. People might passively avoid Stiles in the halls, but they actively removed themselves from Cora’s path.

She’d been taken out of class in the 6th grade and only came back last year, in the 10th. Stiles never asked why, and he’s pretty sure no one else knows, but he’s heard the rumors.

They say she probably went to Eichen House too. Or Juvie, that’s a popular theory. The story Stiles heard was that on the first day she came back last year, one of Jackson’s jock friends had hit on her. She responded by punching him so hard he was knocked out on the floor with a broken nose. He’d had to go to the hospital.

Stiles didn’t know if that was true either, and Cora hadn’t been suspended or anything, but after that people were scared of her. She went that whole year without a friend. Stiles felt bad for her, but he didn’t have any friends either, and it looked like she didn’t care either way.

The teacher let the class spend the last ten minutes getting to know their partners, and looking over the instructions for the paper.

Cora plopped her bag down by the empty next to him and promptly told him that she was “getting an A on this paper or someone's getting murdered.”

Well. She certainly took her education seriously if nothing else. And Stiles could get behind an attitude like that.

He did something he hadn’t done in school in a _long_ time. He smiled. “Me too,” he told her. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“I know,” She said as if it was obvious. “People talk about you.”

His smile dropped a little, but then she added with more softness than he expected out of her, “They talk about me too.”

“Yeah.” It was the only thing he could say to that.

She straightened back up and looked at their handout. “I was serious though; I don’t like to slack off on this stuff. And I like my grades where they are, so I want us to actually work on this.”

He smiled again and repeated his earlier statement, “Me too.”

“Good.” She took her phone out and passed it over, holding her hand out for his when he just stared at it. “I’m saving my number under ‘Cora’. We can get together this weekend if you want, but we can start now too. I have lunch next period, you?”

He nodded as he added his contact in her phone.

“We can go to the library if you want. Decide on a topic?” She asked.

And that was where things got a little tricky for Stiles. For almost two years he’d been driving out to Starbucks for lunch. It wasn’t just every now and then, it was every day. It was routine by then, and Cora was suggesting he deviate from his normal coping method of dealing with high school.

“Um,” he stammered for a second. “I actually have plans.”

He’d turned his face towards the front of the class, but when he gave her a quick glance, he noticed she looked disappointed. And maybe a little sad?

“It’s not… It’s not like anything with school or, you know… I just go off-campus for lunch.” He didn’t want her to think he was blowing her off, and he actually did feel bad for saying no to the library. “Just me, just, um… just myself. I usually drive over to Starbucks and get a coffee for lunch.”

She nodded like it was totally normal for someone to do that, then shrugged and nonchalantly said, “I like coffee…”

It was something about the _way_ she said it, like she was leading him to answer.

“Did you… I mean, did you want to come with me?” He asked. It was an offer he’d never made to anyone before.

She perked right up. “That sounds great!” She gave him a big smile, and it was almost contagious in a way. They packed up their notebooks, and when the bell rang, they left the class together for the parking lot.

Cora thought the Jeep was the coolest thing ever. “Like, I’ve seen it before, but not the inside, you know? Oh cool, you like Batman?” She pointed to the classic Batman logo on the glove compartment.

It had actually been there since the car was still his Moms. She had taken him to the comic book store one day and got him the sticker as well as the latest Batman issue. When they got back in the Jeep he’d asked her where he should put it, and she pulled the back of it off and stuck it on the glovebox right in front of him.

She’d said that it was a piece of him that could be with her whenever she was in the Jeep and he was in school.

He surprised himself by telling her that story and was grateful when she returned a kind smile and a quiet, “She sounds really cool.”

He nodded back to her as he pulled away from the school, out onto the main street. “But I still like Batman. He’s my favorite in the DC. What about you, and please don’t say the Avengers.”

She laughed at him, “Hey, Black Widow is cool. But no. I’ve always been really into the X-Men. When I was like, ten, my uncle sent me that first X-men movie. For like, a whole month straight I wouldn’t answer to my name. I told my mom to call me rogue.”

He laughs at that, trying to picture a young Cora insisting on a name change.

She laughed too and continued, “Then he started sending me the comics. Then he sent me Gambit comics and that was my first crush on a fictional character. It’s embarrassing, I know.

“Nah, that’s not embarrassing.” Stiles assures her. “Besides, Gambit was hot.”

“Right?” the two of them laugh at their shared crushes on a comic book character, smoothly sailing by Stiles’ interest in men. And it’s just comfortable. The last time Stiles could remember laughing in the Jeep, his mom had been alive.

“I don’t know,” she said. “After I started getting into it, I just never really cared about ‘real life’ kids at school. I wasn’t even going to school, so what did I care? I had these dreams you know, that one day my mom would call me downstairs and tell me I was going to go to the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Not the real one, cause it’s not real… but something like that.”

“Dude I know,” Stiles told her seriously. “I got so upset that I didn’t get a letter for Hogwarts.”

“Right?! But then my sister, Laura talked to my mom and told her I was turning into a wild animal ‘cause I didn’t go to school.” And the distaste for her sister was obvious in her tone. “And here I am. Yay.”

Stiles frowned over at that, “Did she say that to you?”

“Nah. I overheard them,” she said with a shrug. “She tried to be quiet about it, but I’ve always been really good at sneaking around and listening to the ‘adult’ conversations. Whatever. She wanted me in school, so that’s where I am. Surrounded by idiots. Well until now. I mean, you’re not an idiot. You’re pretty cool so far.”

And just like that, Stiles had a friend.

They got their coffee and Cora groaned when they pulled back in the school parking lot. She just might hate that place more than he did. Before they split for their next class though, they made plans to work on the project the next day, Saturday, after Stiles got done at work.

“Woah, you have a job?” She sounded surprised.

They had already walked up the steps to the school, and Stiles got quieter with each step. “Two, actually.”

She seemed to get that he didn’t like talking that much in the school, so she stopped them before they actually went in the doors and was rewarded when he continued to tell her about the five to six hours he put in at the diner on the weeknights, and then another eight hours each Saturday and Sunday at the local auto shop.

The mechanic work was on the records, but the diner was off the books. He tips out 15% each night, but he makes enough that it helps out a lot.

They finally split when the bell rang, but Cora told him she’d get a ride to his place the next day after he got home from work.

Speaking of work, Stiles got to the diner on time that night, and looked up from putting an order in the computer to see his dad, Isaac, and Scott being seated at a table on the other side of the floor.

He sent a grateful nod over to Annie when he caught her eye. She learned very early that if Stiles was reluctant to wait on his peers, he downright refused to wait on family.

Within half and hour of them coming in, Melissa walked in and joined them. His attention was mainly focused on taking orders from the tables in his section, so he couldn’t be sure if they had seen him or not, but they looked pretty engrossed in their own conversation regardless.

Annie didn’t know exactly how things worked with Stiles’ family, and she’d asked him back at the beginning if he was _safe_. And wasn’t _that _a fun conversation to have when he asked her what she meant.

But he assured her that there was no abuse. He wasn’t being hurt. She talked to him about parents being ‘emotionally available’ to their children being as important as providing food and clothing and shelter.

But Stiles had learned that showing emotions at home was not what was expected from him. Showing emotions meant psychiatrists, and treatment, and adjusting his meds. He was happy, well, he was comfortable with the way things were now.

He had a safe place in the house, not even Isaac tried to encroach on that. He was determined to keep things on an even keel.

So, while Annie knew it wasn’t sunshine and roses for him at home, she also knew it was how Stiles wanted it to be. The kid was almost eighteen, and she had to respect that.

When the door chimed with a new arrival, she got distracted by the newcomers. Stiles looked up and watched for a moment as she greeted the two new men with warm, friendly hugs. He’d never seen either man before, but he figured they must be friends of hers with that kind of welcome.

Not that intriguing, really.

What was interesting, and definitely caught Stiles’ eye was the fact that right after the two men said hello to Annie, they headed straight for his dad’s table.

He kept an eye on them after that, more than he would have without their addition to the meal.

He couldn’t hear any of their conversation, they were too far away for that. But he watched their expressions and body language.

Melissa and his dad looked serious, listening intently to whatever the men were saying. The boys looked mulish, and the two new arrivals look like they’re doing most of the talking.

It wasn’t really his business, but he couldn’t really help it. He was curious. They stayed through dinner, and well after things had died down. Stiles felt a little bad for Dana, the server whose section they were camped out in. They’d cost her a table that night, and he hoped they would tip her well for it.

He had already finished taking tables in the main dining room himself, and was cleaning up the last of his station. His dad’s table didn’t look like it was going anywhere any time soon. Which meant that if he hurried, he could probably beat them home and be out in the treehouse before they got in the door.

He took off his apron as he dropped the cleaning rag into the bucket and grabbed his hoodie from the employee coat rack in the back.

It was policy that the servers didn’t count their tips in front of customers, so Stiles stopped by one of the tables in the back dining room, the one that had the lights turned off already and was half blocked from view of the front dining room. When he had the tip-out amount ready he put his hoodie on and walked up front to hand over to Annie at the register.

Which was where one of the men from the table was standing.

As he got closer he saw the man take a deep breath and sigh out while watching Stiles the whole way over. He didn’t look directly at the man’s face, but he knew what being watched felt like.

Sometimes he could swear he felt a physical touch in the middle of his shoulder blades when he was being watched. Or maybe that was the anxiety.

When he reached the counter, the new guy stayed where he was. Watching. “You must be Stiles.”

He gave the man a quick look before turning back to Annie. He’d looked amused, with a smile that was more of a smirk than not.

“Have we met?” The man asked when Stiles hadn’t responded.

As he slid the money over to Annie, he gave the man a simple, “No.” It wasn’t rude, he didn’t have an attitude about it. It was just a fact.

The man was attractive. He looked confident, but not entirely cocky. He had a type of swagger that was just shy of douchebag.

Stiles would have remembered him if they’d met. They hadn’t.

“Stiles, this is my friend Peter.” Annie jumped in. “He was my best friend in high school.”

Stiles knew she was referring to their conversation earlier that week, but he’s not sure that Peter knew she’d told him about the whole soulmate rejection thing. It’s sort of a sensitive subject, so he didn’t want to let on that he knew about him. Just in case.

Peter was still staring. And it was starting to get a little uncomfortable when the door chimed again. 

Stiles glanced over as Jackson and Lydia came in the front door. They stood in the entrance for all of half a minute before Lydia looked his way and gave an offhand remark about, “I guess the customer service in this place really went downhill.”

Stiles didn’t like feeling angry too often, and he’d usually deal with a difficult person by removing himself from the equation. But he hated Jackson. And by extension, Lydia. He was surrounded by entitled teenagers in school, but those two took the cake. They were mean to people just for fun.

He never understood why someone would _want_ to be that way. What did it get them? He could give people a lot of slack for things, and the way he saw it, the kids at school had zero ability to affect his life really.

Rumors and gossip were fine. He could live with that. They were never physically violent towards him, and he hadn’t had a friend since he was nine.

If there was one thing Eichen House did for Stiles, it was to teach him that he’d had one person in the world he could count on. And she was dead.

“We good?” He asked Annie. As soon as he got her nod, he zipped up his jacket and pulled up the hood. He noticed one of the overnight servers greet Lydia and Jackson at the same time as Isaac and Scott came bounding over to collide with their friends in a happy jumble.

He shot a quick look over to the table that his dad and Melissa were still at with Peter’s friend and seeing that they were still very engaged in their conversation, he gave a quiet “See you Monday,” to Annie and slipped out the door.

“Interesting,” Peter mused after Stiles left.

Annie slapped him on the chest and told him to calm down with a chuckle. But then she turned serious. “I mean it, Peter. Calm down.”

He turned a confused look to her but didn’t say anything.

“Stiles is special to me.” She told him. “He’s not a delicate flower or anything, but he’s not someone who needs more troubles than he’s already got. That table you’ve been sitting at all night? That’s his father. That boy you’ve been talking to? The one with the blond curls, that’s the kid his dad adopted right before his mother died when he was nine.”

She was speaking lowly. And although there was no one around close enough to hear, she leaned in anyway. “Did you see either of them talk to Stiles all night? Did they even wave hello? I can tell you the answer’s no, because I was waiting for it.”

Peter seemed to understand that she was serious about the situation and turned to study Noah again. The entire time they’d been talking to the family, Stiles hadn’t come up.

What he knew of the boy was what Annie had told him. He had picked up on the fact that she felt protective over the kid, and he’d been captivated because that’s how she was with him when they were younger.

“He’s got me, and maybe two more people who he trusts. But anyone else…” She shook her head a little. “It’s almost like he’s been conditioned to see people as a threat. You should’ve seen him two years ago. I honestly wasn’t sure he would make it as a server. But every night he comes in here, it’s like front row seats to world-class acting. He’s happy with the customers, and he smiles and laughs with them. But none of it’s real.

“From what I can tell, the real Stiles is buried so deep most of the time you’re lucky if you get to see it. What you just saw, that blank stare? That’s the other mask he uses when he’s not in front of a customer. It took me almost a year to crack it. So, I’m serious, Peter. You mess with that kid and I’ll cut you, I swear.”

Peter scoffed at her. “You would never cut me.”

He expected to see her smile back, but she turned a stern look at him and said, “No. No, I wouldn’t. But I would never speak to you again.”

“And if I told you I was honestly interested?” Peter asked. He wasn’t sure if he was yet, but there was something about Stiles that made him want to wrap him up in a blanket, feed him a nice home cooked meal, and sit him down in a nest of soft blankets and pillows in front of a cozy fire where he’d be warm and safe.

“He’s seventeen.” Annie deadpanned back. “You’re not interested.”

He shook himself out of his daydream, wondering where the hell that image had come from. Seventeen, she said?

“You’re right, I’m not interested.”

She smirked at his face. He looked like he’d just bit into a lemon. She held in a laugh as he sighed and dropped his head down to his chest.

“What if I told you I was slightly interested?” He held his pointer finger and thumb up, almost touching. “Just a tiny bit interested.”

She shook her head at him and sighed. “Then I’d tell you that he’s eighteen in less than three months, and that if he turns you down you back the hell off immediately. _Immediately_, Peter.”

He nodded his agreement and pulled her in for a quick hug before looking back over at Marcus and Noah. He didn’t like taking things at face value as a general rule. And that night had just validated for him that you could never settle for the surface layer from a person. Even if they were the sheriff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just tell you how awesome your comments have been? Seriously, I'm so grateful. I wanted to answer them before now, but I also wanted to finish typing up chapter three. 
> 
> Thank you for all of the kudos and comments! I've loved them all!


	4. Chapter 4

Talia had been expecting an update when Marcus and Peter got back that night, but with the late hour, they decided to table it until the morning.

They’d done a skim of the two boys and their parents after Peter met them in the hospital, letting them know what to expect. But they would need to start laying the groundwork to bring them in closer to the pack. The sooner the better.

They’d already made plans for the Stilinski’s and the McCall’s to join them at the house that weekend for a barbecue, but all three of the Hale alphas preferred to be as informed as possible before a get together like that.

After getting breakfast and coffee out of the way Saturday morning, they met in the library to go over what they’d learned.

The boys were typical teenagers, focused on having a good time with their friends and generally speaking, they were happy kids. They were excited about the cool new _powers_ they had and when they were asked, they didn’t mention any anger issues getting out of control.

Still, Talia wanted to start training them soon. Marcus was slightly disappointed when he’d brought it up at the dinner table right as the boys saw their friends come in. They’d been distracted and asking to be excused enough that it shut down anything Marcus was trying to tell them.

“But if we’re going to their house tomorrow, then why can’t we just talk about this then?” Scott had asked his mom. The parents had sighed and said ok, they could go see their friends.

The meeting was good for Marcus and Peter to get an idea of family dynamics. And from what they’d seen, the boys weren’t really used to boundaries. Discipline would probably be an issue.

Their parents were invested though. It almost seemed that the boys didn’t care about the details so long as their parents were informed. Personal responsibility would probably be an issue as well. 

They briefly mentioned the fact that trouble might be headed their way, and that had Noah concerned so they spent some time going over what they could, making sure they remained cognizant of the fact that they were talking in a public setting.

There was a lot of background to get through, though. And both parents wanted as much information on werewolves and their social structures as they could get. The concept of pack was still a sticking point. They weren’t sure if they liked the idea of the boys deferring to an alpha.

When Peter mentioned Stiles, and told them what Annie had shared both before and after he met the kid, they were interested.

More for the fact that no one at the table had mentioned him to the Hales on their own. And even when Peter returned to the table after talking to Stiles at the register, they still didn’t mention him.

Marcus opened his laptop and was just sitting down to start digging deeper into Noah’s information when Cora opened the doors.

The library was separated from the main living space by French doors that, despite being glass, still provided a muffled sort of privacy to the conversations within. Usually, the rest of the family would respect the closed doors as meaning there was a private meeting happening, but tact was something they were still working on with Cora.

She did knock though. When she came in, she didn’t ask what they were doing, she just looked at her mom and asked if Talia would mind if she went over to a friend’s house to work on a history report later. “And I need a ride,” she threw in at the end.

They stared at her in shock. Not for the interruption, but for the fact that she had said ‘friend’. And that she was asking them if she could, completely under her own volition, spend time with her ‘friend’.

That had _never_ happened.

Cora was sociable enough within the pack. Which was another way of saying she would offer her opinion on everything, whether or not it was asked for or even welcome. But she had never wanted to invite a friend over, or go to a friend’s house, or even mention _having_ a friend outside of family.

Marcus was the first to move from shock into happy, but Peter and Talia quickly followed.

“Why are you smiling at me?” She asked them, hedging back to the door. “You’re being creepy.”

“Who’s the friend?” Peter asked, folding his arms across his chest where he was leaning against the desk in front of Marcus.

Cora rolled her eyes and answered, “His names Stiles, and we were put together for our semester paper. So, it’s kind of school related? So, I need a ride.”

Peter was even more intrigued than before if that was possible. So were the others.

“What?!” She huffed out when they just kept looking at her. “Why are you staring?”

“He’s Isaac’s brother,” Talia told her. She’d already told the kids about the new wolves. And while Cora knew who they were from school, she’d just said they weren’t friends. Not emotionally, just like it was a point of fact.

“He is?” She looked like the information didn’t compute for a second, and then turned a little happy and hopeful. “Wait, so he knows about us?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. I met him last night in the diner after we talked to the boys and their parents some more. He didn’t seem like he knew what was going on.”

Talia looked a little pensive at that. They had just started talking about Stiles when Cora came in, so she hadn’t heard Peter’s theories on his awareness yet. “We need to check into him, see if there’s anything we should be worried about there.” She murmured down to Marcus.

“So can I go or not?” Cora didn’t seem amused that her ‘friend’ was being investigated and was starting to glare at her family’s speculations.

Marcus shared a look with Peter and finally let Cora know that, “I don’t see why not. Just be careful okay honey.”

“What time do you need a ride?” Peter asked her, checking his watch. 

Cora dropped any of the earlier hostility, happy they were going to let her go. “Um, he sent me a text that he gets off work at four, so I guess around five?”

“That can’t be right,” Peter said in confusion. “Annie said he only works during the week.”

Cora snorted at her uncle, like it was funny he thought he knew more about her friend than she did. “Well, yeah. At the diner. But he works in an auto shop on the weekends.”

“How old did you say Stiles was? Talia asked her daughter.

She hadn’t said. “My age? He _is_ in class with me.”

The pensive expression on Talia’s face came back. Which led to another moment of silence in the room.

“I’ll drive her,” Peter jumped in to break the tension, and also to redirect Cora’s attention from her mother. Talia was many things, but able to withhold emotions from her facial expressions was not one of them.

“Which means you get to help me go grocery shopping before I drop you off at your friend’s house,” he told her as he walked across the room, slung an arm around her neck, and started dragging her away. “And we’re having that barbecue tomorrow so there’s going to be _a lot_ of groceries.”

“Oh come on!” She grumbled as she walked off towards the kitchen to get started on a list.

Talia listened to Peter’s laughter and Cora’s grumbling fading in the distance before turning down to her husband. “I’m serious, Marcus. I want you and Peter to find out everything you can about Stiles and the sheriff before they get here tomorrow.”

He looked up from his laptop, any amusement from before long gone. “I’m already on it.”

* * *

Peter dropped Cora off at the Stilinski house shortly after five and waited in the car until he saw Stiles open the door. He got a quick wave from Cora when she got to the porch before pulling back onto the street.

He didn’t think Stiles saw him in the driver’s seat, and something told him to stay out of sight for the boys sake. He had groceries to get home anyway.

Honest to god, Cora really had come over to work on their report. Stiles got them some snacks and drinks from the kitchen, and although no one else was home, he led her upstairs to his room so they could lay out their schoolbooks.

Over the next hour they got down to business on the paper. First, they needed a topic, and Cora wanted to have a decent outline by the time they were finished. Yeah, they had until the end of the semester. But she never liked procrastinating.

That worked just fine for Stiles, because he didn’t either. The paper was a twelve page minimum, and was going to count for 30% of their grade.

Shortly after they were situated in the room, tossing around some ideas, Stiles suggested the Cuban Missile Crisis.

“Wasn’t that only a week long?” Cora asked.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles shrugged. “But everything that caused it, and everything that happened after is a lot of information. Russia got friendly with Cuba because we put bombs in Turkey. And we only did that because the Cold War wasn’t going so good. Which was like, a reaction to WWII. Americans still don’t trust Russia and there’s still sanctions on Cuba because of that.”

He didn’t stumble over his words, but it was pretty apparent to Cora that he was excited about the topic. 

“So,” she started. “It’s a historical event that still has a relevant impact on society today. That’s the rules of the paper. Yeah, we can do that.”

He smiled over at her acceptance. She pulled out her tablet, and he opened up his laptop and they got started looking for sources.

While they laid out an outline, she discreetly scented Stiles’ room, and while she could smell a concentrated scent at his computer desk, there was absolutely nothing by the bed.

It was made with tight corners and looked completely untouched. The walls were bare, the bookshelf was nearly empty, and the floor was immaculate. She could even see vacuumed lines on the carpet.

The closet and dresser that held his clothes smelled like she expected, but there was very little else to say that this room was lived in.

She looked over at him at one point and remarked, “Dude, there’s like nothing in here,” like she didn’t get why Stiles’ room looked so different than her own.

He looked around as well and said, “Well, I mean… I only really use it for school work.” He gestured at the computer and textbooks on the desk. Even those were lined up in a neat row towards the back.

“Yeah, but…Where do you sleep?” She was sitting on the foot of the bed, and could tell it hadn’t been used in a while. “Like, this bed looks too nice, you know… like no one uses it.”

Stiles ducked his head a little, shrugged, and waved an arm towards the window.

“Outside?!” She asked, alarmed.

He chuckled a little and got up but seemed to waiver a few times on his way to the window. “Not, um… not really. I can show you,” he offered hesitantly. “If you want.”

She had no idea what was going on, but was fascinated with the mystery. “Hell yeah,” she said with determination, launching herself off the bed and following him to the window. He turned back to grab his keys out of his jacket pocket, then climbed right out the window onto the roof.

She followed without hesitation.

His room faced the back of the house, he told her, so neighbors could never see him climb out. “I used to have the room in the front of the house, but Isaac had moved in there by the time I got back,” he said as they walked along the roof towards the trees.

“Back from where?” This was the coolest thing ever. Her mother would lose her shit if Cora tried to go for a walk on the roof of her house.

Stiles waved a hand absentmindedly, “Just… just back.” He didn’t offer more, and she didn’t ask. She was too focused on the tree house ahead.

“How the fuck did you get an actual door on a tree house?” She laughed.

“Um,” he chuckled. “Well it wasn’t easy, that thing was actually kind of hard to carry. But my dad took Isaac school shopping about a month ago, and I needed a better door, so I went to Home Depot and picked one up.”

There was a small ledge as a door stoop with a novelty door mat in front that she read as they got closer. Cora snorted at the flowing script on it that stated ‘You Shall Not Pass’ with a silhouette of Gandalf below.

Stiles put the key in the lock to open it and she finally smelled what she’d been looking for in the room. It smelled like a place where he lived.

Stiles was talking as he stepped inside, holding the door open for her to join. “I mean, I’d already planned on getting this door, so I’d already measured and done the framing. But it was just plywood before. The doors awesome though. It keeps the temperature stable at night, and bugs can't get in so…”

“You did the framing?” She asked before walking inside after him. Her jaw dropped. The outside looked like a typical tree house, but the inside look like an actual room. It was small, but organized.

“Um yeah,” he said, rubbing the side of his neck a little. “I’ve done all of this. Mostly. My manager Annie, from the diner? Her husband hooked me up with a job with Steve, the one at the auto shop? He taught me how to work on a car, and I’m getting my mechanic tech certification as soon as I graduate high school. And he said he’s already got a full-time job waiting for me if I want it.”

“But what about college?” She looked back over at him from where she’d been distracted by the room.

He shrugged again, “Eh. I’m not sure that’s the road for me. But anyway, when I told him I was interested in building things too, he taught me how to do this. He helped me with the plans and everything. Like, he went to school for it, so the plans were all about safety and everything,” he quickly reassured her.

“And after I graduate and I’m working for a while, get some more money in my savings account, maybe I’ll go to school for construction like he did, too. You don’t really need a degree for that though, it’s like the mechanic work, you just need the certification and experience for people to take you seriously and hire you for jobs.

“And I had fun with this place so far,” he told her sweeping an arm out to encompass the room. “The original place was only on one tree, but I needed more space eventually. And Steve said that using the other trees as a support was actually safer anyway, for weight distribution, you know.”

She noticed a bunch of graphic novels on the bookshelf and started looking through the titles as she listened to him.

“Last year Steve and some of the guys from the garage came over one weekend and cut down some branches between the five trees. They had trucks so they hauled everything off. And they actually put up the base flooring.”

“Did your dad and brother help?” She had noticed that he hadn’t mention them yet, and thought back to the conversation from the library at home. ‘

Surely, if Isaac was Stiles’ brother, he would know about things. But as Stiles had been talking, she got the impression they weren’t really that close.

And it was confirmed when Stiles answered, “No, uh dad doesn’t really know about it.”

“But it’s in his backyard,” she stated, like it was obvious.

Stiles nodded back to her. “Yeah, he doesn’t really go in the backyard as long as I keep up with the mowing and gardening. My mother put the gardens in, so he doesn’t like to be out there much. She was his soulmate, you know? So I guess it still hurts him to look at it. Plus the trees are all pretty big, so the rest of the branches kind of camouflage it from the ground.”

“But they didn’t see the guys from the shop cutting branches down?”

“Nah,” he gave her a sly smile. “They were out of town that weekend.”

She took in the room and was just amazed at everything.

It was approximately 12x8 with a reading nook off to the side. Sheetrock walls painted soothing taupe color, actual windows that let in a good amount of natural light, a roof that was at least a foot taller than stiles himself.

There was a twin box spring and mattress against the far wall with sheets, pillows and a comforter ranging in the steel blue to slate color range. The bookshelf filled with comics and graphic novels as well as several paperbacks. An end table as a nightstand next to bed with an old, plastic camping lantern for light and a picture frame of a woman and a young boy laughing. She guessed that was him and his mom.

Back by the door, in the nook area was a comfortable gray reading chair, another end table, with books stacked up on it and another camping lantern. She noticed the water bottles on the bottom section of the end table almost at the same time as she noticed the flooring.

“That can’t be real wood…” she mused, looking down at the floor.

“Nah, it’s laminate planks,” he said. “They’re lighter weight, and way cheaper.”

She turned around in a circle, taking in the room again. There were little homey touches everywhere. The windows had curtains and there was a small woven rug under the reading chair. And there was even a coat rack on the wall by the door.

“Dude...” she was flabbergasted. “Dude!” She said again as a giant smile took over her face. “This is like, a legit tiny house room. You should totally post pics of this place on Pinterest! How’d you get the chair in here? Wait, how’d you get the bed.”

He laughed a little and sat down in the chair, pulling a blanket out from under him and draping it across the arm.

“Slowly,” he told her. “The chair I actually got out the window. Had to take the window apart first, but I got it. And the bed, I had to pull the box spring up from the ground. Once I got it on the roof it was easy to get it inside. But the mattress is Ikea. They come rolled up, so it wasn’t too hard.”

She was beyond excited about the place. “Can I take pictures?”

He frowned in thought for a moment. “Yeah, just don’t, um. Don’t post them with my name.”

“Psshhh, of course.” She scoffed back and started snapping pictures of the space with her phone.

“Dude!” She said again and let herself fall backwards onto the bed. “This is so cool! I’m never leaving.”

“Well I don’t have electricity or running water in here, so that might be kinda hard.” But it got a grin out of him.

“Still…” she said. “Ugh, it’s too bad we can’t have the barbecue here, we could totally blow everyone off and just stay up here.”

He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “What barbecue?”

She noticed his scent take on a slightly sour note and looked over at him. He’d started to absently run a hand over the blanket. Playing with the frayed edges.

“The one at my house tomorrow. My uncle made me help him with the grocery shopping before he dropped me off.” She grinned over at him, hoping to get rid of the anxious smell. “There’s gonna be like, so much food. You’re gonna be stuffed for weeks.”

“I wasn’t invited to a barbecue,” he told her simply, quietly.

“What?” She asked, confused. “Yes, you were. My mom said she invited your dad this past week. On Wednesday? I think. He said you guys would be there.”

Stiles nodded, suddenly looking anywhere but at Cora. He smelled embarrassed, which didn’t make any sense. “What time?” he asked.

“Um, its at one, I think.”

The embarrassed scent mixed with the anxious scent, and then they both sort of dulled down to a new scent that she didn’t recognize.

“Yeah, I work till four,” he reminded her. “So… I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Well you can just come over after work,” she said. And honestly, she didn’t get what the problem was. “There’s still gonna be plenty of food.”

Stiles sighed and pressed his lips together before looking back over at her. “Cora, I wasn’t invited to a barbecue.” He said it with more finality than before.

It took a minute for her to understand, but she got it. And she looked pissed before shaking her head, pasting a smile on her face and asking “Hey, does your laptop have enough battery for a movie? We could get some more snacks and watch something out here before my uncle picks me up.”

Stiles smiled back at her in gratitude for the subject change. He knew it wasn’t a thing people liked to look at. He didn’t even like to look at it.

But it had been his life for a long time now, and sometimes he wondered if it was his own fault. There had come a point in the ‘distance’ between him and his dad where he’d actively started participating in it.

For Stiles, it was easier if no one questioned where he spent his time, or what he was doing. It might have been different if things hadn’t played out the way they did when he was little.

But for a long time, Stiles had started to think of his time and space as _his_. And he didn’t want any interference from other people. He tried to remember when his dad had gone from ‘his dad’ to being ‘other people’ and thought that it probably happened before he got back home.

So, the way he figured it, yeah, things could’ve gone better for him as a child. But it was way too late to want someone to try and change that now. The distance had given Stiles freedom. And trying to change things with his dad was only going to risk taking some of that away.

It wasn’t worth that risk.

Responding to Cora’s question, “Sure,” he told her. “What time’s he coming?”

She was happy that Stiles wasn’t upset to the point where he wanted her to leave, and made a mental note to avoid that particular minefield. “I can text him while we get food. Tell him nine?”

“Sounds good.” He smiled and suggested they get a pizza delivered if they were going to watch a movie. It meant spending that time in the house while they waited for the delivery, but it was totally worth it when they had a hot meatlovers and a two liter soda while they watched the first X-men movie.

It was a classic, Cora had said.

When peter picked her up later that night, he watched from the car again as Cora and Stiles came out onto the porch and Stiles waved her off. The porch light was on, but the rest of the house looked dark.

She made it all the way down the porch steps before turning back and grabbing Stiles in for a tight hug. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could tell by the body language alone that things weren’t altogether happy.

When she got in the car and the porch light turned off, Peter looked over at Cora and tilted her chin up. He could see that she was angry, though it was unusual for her to be quiet if she was. And it looked like she was very close to that anger turning into tears.

“Fuck the sheriff,” She spat out. Not at him, but just because she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “And fuck Isaac, too.”

He tugged her sideways to plant a kiss on the top of her head before smoothing her hair down and turning back to the road.

She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t expect her to. Besides, he and Marcus already found enough on Stiles past to know what she might have discovered that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the language out of Cora, if that offended anyone. It just flowed for me. And I could totally see 16 year old Cora cursing people out.


	5. Chapter 5

Marcus’ previous observations from the diner meeting seemed to hold true during the barbecue.

The boys and their parents had arrived that afternoon, excited for the gathering, and overall the picture of a happy family. The boys themselves were more excited to meet and talk with Laura and Derek than they appeared to be interested in any guidance from the three older Hales.

But with the full moon less than three weeks away, Talia wanted everyone on the same page for some necessary preparations. When the topic of confinement for their own safety came up, she got her first glimpse of resistance from them.

And although things had gone smoother with Noah and Melissa so far, the subject of lock down had them concerned.

But Marcus had finished on the grill by then, and food was carried out to the table. It was a nice diversion from the subject for a moment, but she fully intended to address it again before they left.

While they were bringing the food over, Talia had pulled her two oldest aside and asked them to engage the boys throughout the day. Sometimes compliance was easier to get when the request was from a friend, rather than authority figure.

And make no mistake about it, Talia was the authority within the Hale pack.

Which Noah was interested in learning more about. He and Marcus had talked about the structure of a wolf pack in the diner, but he still wasn’t sold on the concept of alphas and betas. He questioned whether the role of an alpha was intended to bypass parental rights.

Talia patiently went back over the difference between the wolf side and the human side for werewolves. It was also a lesson for Isaac and Scott, but they quickly assured her that they didn’t feel any different.

She smiled indulgently at their youth and promised that, “You will.”

Scott frowned at that and gave her his own promise that they’d spent the week getting used to things and he really didn’t think it would be a problem.

“The pull of the moon is something all new wolves take some time adjusting to,” she replied. “You may not feel it now, but when the full moon gets closer all of your senses, all of your emotions are going to be heightened.”

“But they’re already heightened,” Isaac spoke up around a mouthful of potato salad. “It’s not so bad.”

Laura snorted as he tried to keep his food in his mouth. “You’re cute,” she joked. “But wolves get a lot of energy on the full moon. And if that energy has nowhere to go, it can get ugly.”

Derek jumped in and told them that all the wolves feel it. “That’s why we go out on runs on the full moon. It gets the energy out and lets us bond together as a pack.”

Scott smiled back at the idea. “That sounds fun, why can’t we just do that?”

“Because you’ll be out of control on the first full moon. All new wolves are.” Peter added. He wasn’t entirely sure about their personalities yet, and he’d been too focused on other research to really investigate them, but so far they were teenagers in the most annoying way teenagers could be.

The Hales were what one would call a ‘privileged’ family. They had enough money that the entire pack could decide they never wanted to work again, and they would be just fine. But he and Talia had been raised in a way that somewhat prevented a sense of entitlement.

From what he’d seen of the teenagers in front of him so far, they hadn’t. Despite their parents not having the kind of financial backing the pack had. They didn’t seem to be interested in learning the history, the culture, or the dangers. But they were very interested in how _cool_ everything was.

Peter would be talking to Talia and Marcus after their guests left, but his biggest concern after three meetings now with the pair was the threat of exposure. If they didn’t respect werewolf culture, he had very little hope they would be dedicated to maintaining the secret. And survival of the pack depended on that secrecy.

The boys and their parents had started to look at him throughout the afternoon as the bad cop to Marcus and Talia’s good cop. Which was perfect, in Peter’s opinion. What was interesting though, was their reluctance to engage Cora in discussion.

The boys were the same age as her, and in the same year in school. In theory, they would have more in common with Cora than Laura and Derek. But they had yet to speak to her after two hours into the meet-and-greet.

Although, that might have something to do with his niece glaring daggers at them any time they looked her way. He hadn’t gotten another word out of her after driving her home the night before. But from the two sentences he did get, it was clear she wouldn’t be making any overtures of friendship.

Peter was drawn from his musings when Noah asked Derek what his plans were now that college was over. Which was a good question because he hadn’t mentioned any to the family since he got back.

“Actually, I’m not sure yet,” Derek said around a smile. “I was planning on figuring that out after I got home, but nothing’s really caught my eye yet.”

“Well, we’ve got some openings down at the department, you should come by and check it out,” Noah offered.

Derek’s smile turned into a grin when Isaac and Scott both chimed in their encouragement for the idea. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you.”

“Come down to the station tomorrow, say five? Braeden and Parrish are on the evening shift, they’re about your age. I’m sure they would love to show you around.” Noah seemed to be thrilled at the idea.

Peter was happy to see that if nothing else, there wouldn’t be any ‘fear of monsters’ mindsets to worry about. In fact, both parents smiled when Derek suggested the two new wolves head out with him and his sister for a run. “You know, just to get a feel for it.”

Laura chimes in that it’s an, “Excellent idea. Last one to the trees is the loser!” before jumping up from the table and tearing her shirt off to reveal a neon pink sports bra, before tossing it in her brothers face and taking off for the woods.

Derek jumped up after her, but Isaac and Scott had a moment of dazed awe before clambering up to chase after them.

Cora snorted rudely around her third hamburger and rolls her eyes. When Talia asked if she wanted to join them, she scoffed with a disgusted expression. “Why? They’re not pack.” 

“Cora!” Talia admonished, but Peter simply grinned at his niece. It may not be socially acceptable, but he loved the fact that she was so blunt about things.

Noah and Melissa looked slightly uncomfortable, but Peter noticed Marcus was smothering a laugh with his own hamburger. Cora’s caveman eating didn’t come from nowhere. And she certainly hadn’t gotten it from Peter.

“Whatever,” she huffed and got up from the table. “I’ve got Trig homework to do.” She made herself a fourth plate and disappeared back inside the house.

“Sorry about that,” Talia apologized. “Cora takes some time to come around to new people. She did just make a new friend at school though, so, thank heaven for small mercies.”

Peter loved his sister. So much. She usually left the underhanded dealings to him or her husband, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of it when she wanted to be.

“What was his name?” Talia asked, looking over at Peter like her memory had failed her. “Cora’s new friend, was it Stuart? Stanley?”

“Stiles,” Peter corrected. He noticed Noah tilt his head at that, but continued. “I’ve met him. He seems like a nice boy, they’re working on a history report together.”

“Did you say Stiles?” Noah interrupted. Which led to the reveal of the teen’s parentage. Talia feigned surprise at the fact that Noah had another son who wasn’t there at the barbecue.

“Being a werewolf is something that affects the whole family, Noah.” Talia added. “Until the boys learn control, everyone in the house should be aware. Have you and Isaac told Stiles about the changes?”

Noah was more acquiescent to the fact that Isaac and Scott might not have as good a handle on control as they felt they did, but at the mention of Isaac talking to Stiles he seemed resigned. “He said he tried, but Stiles didn’t want to talk to him.”

He sighed, and leaned his elbows on the table. “He’s… Stiles has always been a little different. Not slow or anything, he scored above average on his IQ testing. But after his mother died, he went from a hyperactive ball of energy to an extreme version of introverted. Then he started with the fires…”

Peter and Marcus were very interested at that. They both leaned into the table as well. Talia, on the other hand maintained her perfect composure.

“I hear that’s normal for young boys sometimes,” she told him with a sympathetic tone.

Noah shook his head. “Maybe, but he was doing it inside the house. It was all things that were on Isaac’s side of the room. It got to the point where I was so worried about their safety if I wasn’t around.

Peter shared a look with Marcus when Noah mentioned that, “We got him some help, and it got the destructive behavior under control. But ever since then, he’s kept to himself. If we try to make him interact with the rest of us, he just walks away. You can’t punish him by sending him to his room, he doesn’t see it as a punishment. He doesn’t spend any time with friends, so grounding doesn’t work either.”

Melissa jumped in, “I talked to Scott about trying to include Stiles when the boys are together, but they said he’s never in his room. Noah asked him about it, and he said he likes to go on hikes in the preserve.”

The Stilinski house backed right up to the forest, they explained. So all Stiles had to do was go out his back door and walk across his back yard. 

“The only time he really spends at the house is when he’s doing homework or working in the gardens out back,” Noah said. “Other than that, he takes off into the woods. I know he started picking up some shifts at the diner, I’ve seen him there. When I asked him about it, he said he needed money for the Jeep. I told him I was just going to scrap the thing, it’s so old. But it was his mother’s and he said he wanted it.”

Peter noted to himself that there was no mention of the garage work, even though that was the job that was actually on the books. A quick movement in his periphery had him looking up at the house.

Where he noticed Cora sitting on the roof. Even from that distance, Peter knew she could hear the conversation going on below. 

“Is he still in treatment?” Marcus asked.

“No,” Noah shook his head again. “He had a couple of hard weeks adjusting afterwards, and the head psychiatrist said he thought Stiles was showing signs that fit criteria for reactive attachment disorder, even though he’d been a happy child until his mother died. But it smoothed out around the house and Stiles refused to talk to another counselor.”

Though she didn’t let on, Talia had the advantage of knowing what the psychiatrist’s notes had said about Stiles. He didn’t have RAD. From everything she’d read, and everything they’d learned about the teen so far, it showed that he was a very intelligent and independent young man who’d experienced something traumatic.

But not in his very early years. When Stiles was a toddler, he’d had a stable home life and a loving mother to guide him and help him grow. When his mother died, Stiles was still a child, but his brain had developed beyond an age where RAD was a concern. His aversion to other people was the result of something else, not that.

But labeling him with that diagnosis was a really good stepping stone to claim he was an incapacitated adult later on. 

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m not trying to be insensitive, but you mentioned a period of adjustment after treatment, that doesn’t seem like a normal situation for outpatient therapy.” 

Noah ducked his head, “No. He, uh… When I talked to his counselors about the behavior with starting fires, they suggested residential care. So that’s what we did.”

Melissa took his hand and squeezed it before adding, “He’s better now though. He’s a bit of a loner, but he’s not destructive anymore. If you were worried about Cora being around him, or anything like that.”

Marcus spoke up at that and said that no, they were not worried. “Derek went through a loner phase in high school. He got caught up in a pretty dangerous situation and had a bit of an adjustment period himself. But he got through it.”

“Maybe he could talk to Stiles,” Talia suggested. “Let him know it gets better.”

Noah and Melissa smiled, “Yeah, that sounds great actually. The boys seemed to really take to Derek, maybe he could bridge that gap between them.” 

Talia and Marcus smiled back. Peter grinned. Though, not at the suggestion. All three of the wolves could hear the low, rumbling growl Cora let out.

The four young wolves were still out running when 4:30 hit. Peter had gone inside, but the rest of them had stayed out in the cool air to continue talking.

He was in the library looking for a specific book on fae creatures that had somehow been misplaced from the last shelf he remembered it being on. Hearing the door softly open he called out without turning around, “Hello my favorite little spy.”

“Can you drive me to meet Stiles in town?” It was a gentle request, all things considered. She knew she’d gotten away with too much attitude in front of her mother already that day.

“More work on your history paper?” he asked, smiling when he finally found his book.

She came a little further in the room and leaned against one of the chairs. “No. He’s going to teach me to drive.”

That had him looking over at her. “I thought Laura was doing that.”

And that was as much grace as Cora had for the day apparently. “Yeah, when?” She snorted. “I’ve had my permit for three months now. She hasn’t taken me out once. Always says she’s busy. And Derek won’t let anyone drive his car. I asked him. He said no.”

Peter pursed his lips, he hadn’t known about that. “I could teach you,” he offered.

She shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal, “Stiles already said he would.”

He thought about it for a minute. It actually fit nicely into his plan to learn more about the young man. Sure, they had the medical and school records, but first-hand interactions would be enormously helpful.

“Fine, I’ll take you,” he told her and held a finger up. “On one condition: I get to be in the car with the two of you.”

She laughed at that and told Peter he was going to be cramped in the back seat. “Plus, it’s manual. Do you even know how to drive stick? If not, I don’t know how much help you’re going to be.”

He gave her a deadpan stare. “Cora, sweetheart. You do remember me driving you around just yesterday, yes? Did you think me shifting gears was driving an automatic?”

“Oh, yeah,” she muttered.

“Do you not want me to come?” He asked, trying not to look offended.

“I just don’t know if Stiles will be cool with it.” She said with another eyeroll at his tiptoeing. But then her expression turned serious again and she moved her hand to play with the piping on the chair. “He knows his dad came over today. Peter, they didn’t tell him about it. He wasn’t invited.”

He gave her a kind, but sad smile in return, “I know.”

“I’ll text him,” she said, shaking herself out of it and pulling out her phone. “If he says it’s cool, then okay.”

Which was how Cora ended up in the driver’s seat of the Jeep in the parking lot of an abandoned mall an hour later.

Stiles was in the passenger seat, and Peter was, as threatened, on the small, cramped bench in the back. Getting thrown into the back of Stiles seat every time Cora lurched the car forward and stalled it again. 

Stiles had been surprised when it was Peter who showed up with Cora, but he took it in stride, focused on teaching her the basics.

About ten minutes in, Peter had started up a steady string of curses, which had Stiles and Cora snorting and laughing in giddy delight every other minute. 

“If you weren’t my favorite niece, I’d hack into the DMV and delete your permit,” Peter spat out after a half hour of the abuse. 

It took almost the full hour, but they got her to the point where she could drive from one end of the parking lot to the other.

Well, almost.

“Clutch! Clutch!” They both yelled right before the Jeep stalled again and Peter was launched into the back of the seat again. 

There was silence in the car for a full twenty seconds.

Cora and Stiles tried to suppress their laughter at Peters plight. They weren’t successful.

They stopped around seven, and Cora drove them smoothly over to Peter’s car, “Not too close now, park it a few spaces away… AWAY Cora!”

She cackled like the evilest Disney witch, and pulled up right next to her uncle’s shiny sports car. 

“You’re a demon from the lowest pit of hell sent to torture me for some terrible atrocity in a past life. I must have been a serial killer, I’m sure of it,” Peter grumbled as Stiles got out to move the seat forward for him. 

Which only made Cora break down laughing again. They still had smiles on their faces when Peter reached into the back of his own car and pulled out an insulated bag from the back seat.

He handed it to Stiles, much to the teen’s confusion. “Cora said you had to work today, so you couldn’t come by for the cookout. We brought you dinner.”

Stiles was shocked. The bag was heavy, so he knew there had to be a lot of food inside. Peter was watching him again, sort of like he had back at the diner, but less intense.

Stiles was sure he looked like a dumbfounded idiot for half a minute before he caught himself and thanked the man. He was touched. Really. Usually, he made himself dinner, and he’d grabbed a quick bite when he’d gotten home before leaving to meet Cora. But the thought of barbecued food had his mouth watering and stomach growling.

He looked back up at Peter’s face to see an honest, pleased smile. Not the smirk from the diner. He made sure to give him a smile back. And said thank you again.

Later, after Peter had taken Cora and himself back home, he knocked on door and came in while she was focusing on her tablet.

“So,” he hedged. “Stiles seems nice.” But she was focused on whatever was on the screen.

“Yeah, he’s cool.”

The side of Peter’s mouth quirked up for a second. “Are the two of you…”

That got her looking up. “What? No, gross. He’s my friend.” She was only momentarily distracted.

“Hmm.” Peter mused, though he wasn’t happy with being ignored. “What’ve you got there?”

“Do you know anything about electrical wiring?” She asked instead of answering. “Like how to get electricity in a small room, like a shed, from solar power?”

He shook his head. “Can’t say that I do, no.”

She hummed in displeasure. “There should be enough light through the trees, I think. It’s only a few hundred dollars, but the wiring might be tricky.”

“What the hell are you looking at?” Peter asked before grabbing the tablet out of her hands and throwing himself down on the bed to get comfortable.

“We don’t have a shed Cora,” he said as he scrolled through the page of video links. 

“Yeah, I know.” She rolled her eyes and draped herself over his shoulder, snuggled in close so she could see the screen as he continued to scroll. “It’s not for us.”

“Let me guess, Stiles?” He said with a quick smirk at her.

“Yeah,” she muttered. 

Some of the videos, _most _of the videos were showing how to live in a tiny house off the grid. Peter thought they looked interesting enough. But memories of years ago when he’d started building a small cabin in the woods behind the main house flashed through his brain.

They weren’t happy memories. He rooted himself in the present and asked, “Is he planning to go live off the grid in a shed?”

“He already kind of does,” she said. Simply. Like it was a common occurrence.

Peter dropped the tablet onto his stomach. “Explain.”

And she did, she told him about the tree house, and what she smelled, or rather didn’t, in his bedroom. She pulled out her phone and showed him pictures that Stiles let her take of the place, as long as she promised not to post them where anyone they knew could see them, or link his name to it in any way. 

Peter took her phone and swiped through the pictures, pausing on a candid one of Stiles curled up on a grey wing chair. 

“He sleeps in there,” she said, and reached up to swipe through the pictures to one of the bed. It looked nice, even though there was no frame. 

He mentioned it and Cora jumped in, “Yeah, he’s building one. His boss at the garage let’s him use the warehouse for woodworking. Stiles said he’s like the guys apprentice, after the auto work, or when it’s slow. He built the two tables and the bookshelf himself, see.” She was excited to show him the pictures, and Peter was happy to see the enthusiasm. 

“He said he’d talk to Steve if I wanted, that’s his boss. See if he would teach me too, after school or something. The garage is really close to the diner, so Stiles said if Steve says yes, he could just drive me from the school when he goes in for work.”

“When does he have time to do actual schoolwork?” He asked.

“After work, mostly.” She shrugged as much as she could being that close to him. He felt the intent though.

“Anyways, he’s going to put in crown molding and baseboards to practice on angles, and then he’s getting Steve to show him how to build a bed frame that can be moved in in pieces.” Peter was impressed. “He said it’s not really that difficult, but he wants to put in drawers, you know, for storage.

“But there’s no electricity in the place. And no water, so no plumbing, so he still has to go back into the house for that, but if he got solar in there, it’d be a whole lot better. He could have lights instead of the lanterns, and maybe a small fridge? Oh, and a TV!”

She grabbed the tablet and opened a new page to show him what she’d found.

Peter had talked to Talia and Marcus about the Stilinski situation the night before. And during the barbecue he had watched the way the man spoke of Stiles when they brought him up. 

The handling of the boy when he was younger was offensive to all three of them. And despite the need to have peace in the territory while they had a threat headed their way, none of them were happy to see how far removed the sheriff had become from his flesh and blood son. Sure, he was great with Isaac and Scott, but it almost seemed like it was a different man when it came to stiles. 

The Eichen House records had been sealed, but Marcus had got them anyway. The amount of drugs they’d had the kid on while he’d been there was alarming for a child so young.

And at least four of the months he’d been a patient struck Marcus as strange. The records of therapy sessions looked like carbon copies of each other. For a period of four months, the notes all documented the same encounter, just with different dates. 

They all knew what Eichen House was. Stiles had been there for nearly a year, and four of those months were dark in terms of information.

Something had happened to the boy during those four months. There was no record of visitors during that time, and even on the months surrounding that window, his father only came by once every other week. 

That wasn’t the behavior of a father who loved his son in his opinion, and Peter had flashed his eyes and claws at one point during their research.

It’d been enough that Talia had to reach over and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. So, seeing Cora latching onto the boy so quickly made him happy. 

He’d seen the quietly resigned and depressed Stiles in the diner, but seeing him laugh and have fun with him and Cora earlier that evening had shown him there was another side. He just kept it under wraps in front of family. 

He swiped the pictures on the phone until he got back to the candid one of Stiles sitting in the chair, his legs drawn up underneath him and his hand holding tightly to a well-worn quilt.

He looked tired, and way too skinny, to the point where Peter would almost say his face looked gaunt. “He needs to eat more.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cora sighed. “He said the Adderall kills his appetite though.”

“Still…” Peters mind was whirring with sudden plans to help the kid. He didn’t know why he was getting attached, maybe it had something to Cora’s very obvious attachment. But he had an idea in the back of his head that might help to bring Stiles closer to the pack, while also giving the kid some measure of independence to work towards. 

He had some phone calls to make.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this story has been nothing short of amazing. Seriously, guys, I'm beside myself with all of the great feedback and kind words. 
> 
> So I just want to take this moment and tell you all how grateful I am for your support, and ideas, and just with how invested you are. I can't say thank you enough, but I'll try!


	6. Chapter 6

Jordan watched as Derek Hale came out of the sheriff’s office. They were both smiling, and he could tell the sheriff was feeling a bit of pride at that moment. Which was interesting, because he wasn’t aware the two knew each other.

When Jordan had first come to Beacon Hills, he had no earthly justification for it. He’d never heard of the town. He was from Arizona for crying out loud. His comfort zone had always been deserts, and open skies above him.

Not a small town in northern California with tree cover so thick in places someone could get lost in there for years and never be found. But he’d felt a pull. Over the course of his life, he’d felt that pull a handful of times.

Since before he could remember, he’d been a ward of the State. He had zero memories of actual parents or a childhood, and he’d never gone digging, but the earliest memory he had was being a kid in a state-run orphanage. When he was twelve, a well-past middle-aged Navajo man named Thomas came to the center.

That was the first time Jordan felt the pull. A small tug inside his chest that led him to be directly in front of the older man. He was fostered with Tom by the end of that day, and within the next few years, adopted.

Tom had a ranch just off the reservation, and as a teenager, Jordan learned how to work horses, cattle, put up fences, mend fences, and any number of other jobs the place required of them. The work was satisfying, and he went to bed every night feeling like he’d contributed. He felt wanted, respected, and loved. And he’d developed those same feelings right back.

He learned school work of course, but after that Tom would teach him his culture and history everyday as they worked the land together. “You are not Navajo by blood,” Tom told him once. “But you will carry my spirit and the spirits of my ancestors when you leave here.”

At the time, he had no idea what to say to that, but now, he hopes it was true.

Between the ages of twelve to eighteen, Jordan felt the pull two more times. The first time was when he was in town picking up more wire from the hardware store one evening. He’d been walking past a dark alley. It looked empty, but it was so dark he couldn’t see all the way to the end.

The tug in his chest urged him to move past and get away. He could hear footsteps behind him as he walked briskly down the street, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. But Tom had told him that if that ever happened, he should never, never turn around. Those footsteps followed him all the way to the truck, and he felt hot breath on his nape. But he never turned back, and he left without incident.

The second time was right before he left Arizona for good. He woke from a dead sleep around two in the morning because the tugging was so strong it was practically pulling him across the room. Instead of one sharp pull like before, it stayed and guided him to the truck, then all the way into town to that same alley.

He found Tom laying at the mouth of it, throat slashed, and chest cut open. The police had already arrived, but he could see everything; they hadn’t put the sheet over the body yet. The sheriff knew him and caught his shoulders before he could make it closer. “He’s gone son. He’s gone.”

Jordan enlisted in the Army and was gone from Arizona by the end of the week. He never felt the tug the entire time. Not when he joined the Rangers, not when he had to kill to protect himself and his men, and not when the roadside IED destroyed his Humvee. He had no explanations for how he walked away from that, but he knew his time in the Army was over.

On the very date of his separation, when he was sitting in his truck after leaving the base for the last time, Jordan felt a tug.

It took him all the way from Ft. Benning, Georgia to the west coast and then up. All the way to a small, nowhere town he’d never heard of. He followed it all the way to a small county sheriff’s station before it left him. He started training shortly after that and quickly made it onto a regular patrol.

When he’d arrived, there was a deputy, Noah, who’s wife had a terminal disease. It wasn’t a tug, exactly, but he got a general feeling that he should get close to the man. Tom had taught him that those feelings were the spirits of their ancestors guiding him. “Listen to them, boy. They will show you where you need to be.” And he did. Noah won the sheriff’s election the year after his wife passed, and he’d been working for him ever since.

Meeting Steve was inevitable in a town as small as Beacon Hills. The man ran the only decent auto shop around and Jordan had always liked working on machines. He sent a lot of business Steve’s way, and if he wasn’t busy on the weekends, he’d help out in the shop. Though it wasn’t often that he had time.

Steve, despite being much younger in appearance than Tom, became something of a mentor to Jordan. And finally, _finally_, he found some answers about who, or what he was. He’d wondered if Tom could sense it. If that was why he’d taken him in. And he thought that the old Navajo probably had.

Working at the shop was also how he met Stiles. He learned about Noah, and the man’s family. But the day he saw Stiles, he felt a tug for the first time in years. The tug lasted only a moment. But it was the strongest he’d ever felt. The boy was sixteen, and Jordan knew of him, but he’d never met him.

When Stiles had walked into the shop with Mark, Annie’s husband, the boy didn’t see Jordan. But Jordan certainly saw _him_. For the first time ever, the tug was accompanied by a visual, and Stiles shined so bright that day, he would’ve been impossible to ignore.

After Mark and Stiles had left, Steve asked him what he thought. Jordan recounted what he’d felt and saw. And Steve told him, much like Tom had before, that it wasn’t something he should ignore.

He’d wanted to quit the sheriff’s office immediately. He’d found what he was supposed to find, and there was no reason to delay his commitment. But Steve had told him to wait. Just wait. There was a reason he felt drawn to the sheriff, and he might be needed there eventually.

He trusted Steve, and the guidance the other man provided. So, he kept his eyes open and watched. He knew about the Hales. Of course, he did. But aside from Steve introducing him to Peter, he didn’t _know_ them. And he’d never seen them around the department.

So, when Noah came out of his office with Derek Hale under his arm, it caught his interest. The sheriff brought Derek over to Jordan’s desk and called Braeden over. They were relatively close in age, Jordan and Braeden, about six years difference. But they had rarely worked together. To be honest, he was just fine with that.

She had a challenging sort of personality, demanding respect where it wasn’t earned. And extremely confrontational. It never sat right with Jordan when he heard the woman accuse others of not taking her seriously because she was a woman. It wasn’t that. It was the fact that she was still a rookie, with no background in law enforcement.

Even Jordan had been put through his paces by the older deputies when he’d first started. And he’d been a Ranger in the Army for six years.

The sheriff introduced them to the young man, and he could see both Derek and Braeden were excited for the chance to talk about life as a deputy. Derek was interested in taking it all in, but Jordan couldn’t guess at Braeden’s motivations.

If Noah had been serious about showing Derek the ropes, he should have sat the boy down with Jonas. That man had been around since the start of time. He’d seen it all and could’ve given him the rundown.

Still, Noah wanted them to teach him; let him get a feel for they way things ran. Jordan was polite, all things considered, but he didn’t show as much enthusiasm as Braeden. And when Noah picked up on the besotted look of Derek’s face once or twice, he seemed to be pleased.

“Derek, how about you go on a ride-along with Braeden tonight?” he interrupted their conversation. “She can show you what a typical patrol is like, see if it’s something you can see yourself doing.”

Jordan wanted to roll his eyes at how thrilled they both looked. Like a kid who’d been given a piece of cake for breakfast.

“Jordan, you too,” Noah said, turning to him. “I want you to really show Derek what we do around here. Braeden, your patrol’s about to start, so you and Derek get out of here. Jordan, you meet up with them for dinner and you guys can go over any questions. Sound good?”

He nodded back to his boss, and sent back a respectful “Of course,” but on the inside, he was somewhat less than amused.

By the time the evening meal rolled around, Jordan was already out on his own patrol and suggested a meet up at the diner. He was happy to see Annie when he got there, it’d been about three weeks, and she and Mark were good friends.

So was Stiles. He had grown to trust Jordan over the last two years after the dead battery on the Jeep incident. When the boy had noticed him come into the shop in coveralls one Saturday, his eyes sparked with understanding, though he never said anything about it.

It just became a thing. Sometimes Jordan worked at the shop. Sometimes they talked. One time they all helped him tear down a treehouse and start the build for a new one. And slowly, very gradually, Stiles started to open up.

It was glaringly obvious to all of the men who worked in the garage that Stiles did _not _like to be touched. He’d only had to violently jerk his body away a few times before it became an unspoken rule: Don’t touch Stiles unless he initiates it.

Even now, after years of knowing them, he was still a little cautious sometimes. The men all looked at him like a kid brother, but it was like there was a wall that they all ran into sometimes.

Stiles could be a great conversationalist when they were talking about work: the cars, or the woodwork he did with Steve. But as soon as someone started with something personal, his face went blank. It didn’t even have to be about Stiles, really. _Any_ talk of someone’s home life meant the end of the conversation.

When Jordan arrived he talked to Annie until Stiles came over. He didn’t reach out, but he stood close enough inside Jordan’s bubble that the older man felt comfortable greeting him with a fond, “Hey, Kid.” And a quick tug across his shoulders.

He tucked him in quick but released before Stiles could tense up. It was a thing he was trying lately. To see if he could get the boy familiar enough with it that it would be normal and acceptable for him, instead of causing a freeze, fight, or flight reaction.

It was not unlike the way Tom had taught him to train the wild horses they’d take on the ranch. Slow and steady, always consistent. And never lose your patience when they would get two steps forward and one step back.

Annie was happy to seat Jordan in Stiles’ section. It was a relatively quiet night, the dinner rush had died down early and he still had a couple hours before he normally had to go for the evening.

When Braeden and Derek came in and joined Jordan, she noticed the hitch in Stiles’ breath. Jordan did too. He also noticed the intense look from Derek when Stiles came up to the table to greet them and get their orders.

“Stiles,” Derek smiled over before he could get a word out besides his name. “You’ve been hanging out with my sister.”

“Yeah, um…” Stiles seems shy, and Jordan was almost amused when he noticed the blush creeping up the side of the boy’s neck. “Yeah, I have.”

Derek nodded, “Yeah, she told me. Your dad said you like to go hiking in the preserve.”

A quick, there and gone flash of confusion showed on the boy’s face. “Um, sometimes?”

Jordan knew that he hadn’t really done that for the last year since starting two jobs. They’d talked about it a few months ago, and were very close to convincing Steve to close the shop for a day and take the guys out on a ‘bonding experience’ in the woods. _‘Like a field trip,’ _Stiles had said.

Derek seemed to turn up the volume on his smile. “Me too. I was going to go on a hike this Saturday. If you’re free, do you want to come?”

Stiles gave a small smile and ducked his head a little. That blush was definitely in his cheeks now. “Um I can see if I can get off work. But that sounds good. What time?”

“How about I pick you up around 10?” he offered.

The whole thing was pinging all over Jordan’s radar. Stiles showing interest in the man. Stiles _willingly_ wanting to spend time with him, even though he hadn’t taken a day off for anyone including himself in almost two years…. Something was happening that Jordan had never seen before.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles said, around a small but sincerely happy smile.

Jordan wasn’t sure he liked it. And looking over to Braeden, it didn’t look like she did either. Stiles took their orders quickly after that and turned away from the table with another smile.

He watched the boy stop to pick up a tip from the table behind them, but Derek and Braeden were seated facing the opposite direction. 

Which was maybe why they didn’t realize Stiles was still there when Braeden asked, “So, is that your type then? Jailbait?”

“No," Derek scoffed back. "Not by a long shot. His dad recently became friends with my parents and my mom said he’d been going through a rough patch for a while. His brother said he’s the weird kid at school, so he doesn’t have any friends really. They asked me to talk to him, let him know that high school sucks for everyone, but it gets better.”

“Aww, that’s really sweet of you,” Braeden gushed. Her whole demeanor softened, and she leaned into Derek’s side a little.

Jordan had been watching Stiles the whole time and frowned when he saw the kid’s reaction. His hands shook a little bit, and his face shut down into that familiar blank mask faster than he’d ever seen before he straightened up and quietly hurried away.

When a different server brought them their drinks, and then their food, Jordan realized Stiles had given their table away to someone else. He looked back at Annie and saw her observing their table with suspicion.

Derek and Braeden didn’t seem to notice the difference.

As they were leaving, Derek stopped when saw Stiles wiping down a counter and called over to him. “Hey, so I’ll pick you up this Saturday?”

“Oh, uh, no. Sorry I didn’t come tell you.” Stiles stood up to face him, but he kept a nervous sort of grip on the rag. “I called my boss, and he couldn’t give me the day off. It was short notice and all, so...”

Derek frowned at that, but said, “Okay. Maybe next weekend then?”

The suggestion got a nod from Stiles, but Jordan noticed that the smile from before never reappeared and he never looked directly at Derek. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jordan wasn’t interested in spending more time around the other two and excused himself to head back to patrol after he paid. Annie had given him a look that promised he would be coming back on his own to talk to her. Alone.

He wasn’t about to argue, his own curiosity was gnawing at him.

* * *

When Stiles got home that night, he was hoping to have the house to himself. Not that he’d be staying inside of it. But he just wanted silence for a while.

After overhearing Derek and Braeden earlier, his mark had started to burn. Actually burn. He’d made his way to the bathroom quickly, but Annie had noticed and followed him in.

It was only a small section that had burned, but it stung worse than any cuts or scrapes he’d had in the past. She’d gone back up front to grab some burn cream from behind the counter, it was a diner so of course they had it, and helped him treat it.

“Do you want to go home?” She’d asked.

But, no. he really hadn’t. He just needed to keep busy, not think about it for now. “I don’t know if I can take that table, though,” he’d told her.

She’d taken his pad and told him he could switch with Amy. She was in the back dining room, and Annie had already shut it down for the night. The girl didn’t have any tables in her section at the moment, so she’d be happy to pick one up.

He’d said he could still cover the rest of his tables, but Annie suggested that after he got done with what was already seated, he should probably come off the floor. It wasn’t a hard thing to agree to, his arm was really starting to hurt by then.

But then Derek had found him again at the end of his shift and he felt nothing but overwhelmingly nauseated. By the time he made it home, it was a toss up between wanting to puke and wanting to shower. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be eating that night, and he really did want a quiet evening.

Alas, Scott and Isaac were in the living room playing video games on the couch. He made his way into the kitchen to grab some cold water out of the fridge before pulling out the saran wrap and heading upstairs. Before he got to the top though, he heard the two boys speaking. 

As quietly and as still as he could, he listened to Scott tell Isaac that Derek just texted him about having a date that Friday, “But he said we could totally meet up on Saturday to hang.”

Stiles was momentarily struck by the feeling of a heavy weight settling in his gut at the thought of Derek on a date. And he grabbed onto his arm when a tingling sensation flickered through his soul mark again.

Annie had sent him home with more burn cream and dressings, and instructions to keep it dry. He wondered if he should check it again before the shower, or just wait until he was done and change the bandages before bed. 

“Is Laura gonna be there?” he heard Isaac ask.

Scott snorted, but in that way where their attention was still very much focused on the videogame. “Dude, she’s like way out of your league.” 

“Yeah, but she said I was cute. Remember?” Isaac replied before laughing at Scott’s character getting killed again. “And she said I have really good control already and that’s like super impressive.”

Stiles was confused by that, control? What was he talking about? Was Isaac _involved_ with Laura? She was at least 10 years older than them based on what Cora had said. That would be a little strange. Isaac had just turned sixteen a few months back.

He vacillated between getting involved or not for a few moments before remembering the promise he made to himself when he turned twelve and his dad and Isaac forgot his birthday. _Not my circus. Not my monkeys._

He shuffled up the rest of the stairs and into the bathroom. The sooner he got his shower over with, the sooner he could pass out and put that whole shitty day behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so awesome! I love the comments and hearing about your reactions. Thank you so much for all of the GREAT response. It's been amazing!


	7. Chapter 7

Steve being in the Hale house was always something that put Talia a little on edge. Not necessarily in a bad way, just that it made all of her senses heighten up very rapidly, as though there were a threat lurking around her pack. So, a little in a bad way.

But Steve himself wasn’t the threat. She knew, and had known for a very long time that the ‘friendly neighborhood mechanic’ guise was not all there was to the man. She just didn’t know what she wasn’t seeing.

He wasn’t a werewolf. And certainly not a druid. But he had abilities, and a certain poise. He was careful, but sometimes he spoke as if he were much, much older. And once, just once, she had seen his eyes flash.

They hadn’t flashed any particular color other than their natural state, but they seemed to glow from the inside. It was a brightness that, if he wanted to, she was sure it would just keep getting brighter, and brighter until it hurt to look at.

But it had been very fast, and then it was gone again. Other than the constant fluidity of his movements, there was nothing else about the man that screamed ‘not-human’. But she knew. And Peter had confirmed it for her years ago.

Her brother had an almost unnatural ability to make both friends and enemies within moments of meeting them. There was very rarely a halfway mark with Peter, and he would both acknowledge and agree with that if asked. Unapologetically, of course.

Steve had been a close contact, a friend of Peter’s for a while. Longer than Talia could remember. Though she didn’t remember him in high school, he’d always been in town. And he seemed to age even more slowly than the werewolves.

Talia knew that Peter knew what Steven was, though he’d never shared that with her. The one time she’d asked him, he simply said “He wants to keep that to himself for now.” 

She accepted that answer and understood that while she didn’t know exactly what he was, he commanded respect by his presence alone, effortlessly. Even when she became an alpha, Talia sometimes felt like she was a commoner standing in front of royalty when they talked.

And they didn’t talk often. So, when Peter told her Steve was coming over to the house that night she was sincerely surprised.

“I want to build on the foundation that’s out there,” Peter said. He explained about Stiles showing Cora the treehouse he'd built. And that he would be old enough to move out of the sheriff's house soon. He wanted to give it to Stiles.

Their guest hadn’t arrived yet, and this was a conversation better had between the two siblings alone anyway. She didn’t have to ask what foundation he meant, of course she remembered.

About ten miles behind the main house, along an unpaved dirt road, sat a concrete slab. Next to it was the hidden opening for one of the tunnels to the main house, and under it was the closest Hale vault.

Peter had the concrete foundation laid years ago, and framework had been put up at one time. But it was supposed to be a cabin as a gift to his soulmate. He’d started to build almost as soon as he found out who the man was. He knew there was no way a trained hunter would feel comfortable in a house of wolves right away, so he’d wanted to create a separate space for them. And be close enough to the pack if he was needed.

When he was rejected, he tore it all down in his grief. As a werewolf, the burns left behind by the mark had healed over quickly. But like all others in his position, human or not, the angry red wounds faded, and the skin of his forearm had turned into a horrible web of scars where his soul mark used to be.

The splintered wood from Peters attack on the cabin was eventually reclaimed by the forest, little mounds of grass in the places where construction materials once sat. The concrete was the only thing left.

“That’s a serious gift to give, Peter,” Talia pointed out. “Are you sure?”

Peter appreciated her concern, but set his shoulder back with a sigh. “Talia it’s been almost fifteen years. I moved on a long time ago, and finally doing something with that place feels… it just feels like it’s time.”

She smiled back, bigger and wider than a normal smile and Peter was instantly suspicious. “And… you want to give the place to… Stiles?”

He narrowed his eyes at her suggestive tone. “I swear to god, Talia,” he huffed out. “I am not some lovestruck fifteen-year-old. The kid’s in a bad way, your daughter has practically decided he’s a Hale at this point, he’s going to need a place soon, and having that distance in the beginning will probably be good for him.”

Somehow, impossibly, her smile only grew with his defensiveness. “Uh huh,” she agreed, like she was placating a child. “And you want to build him a cabin. On the foundation you laid for your love nest…”

“I’m going to leave if you don’t stop,” he threatened.

She cackled back. He thought it was eerily similar to Cora, and pouted. He’d always assumed she got her devil streak from him.

“I’m serious about this,” he insisted.

“Oh, I know you are.” She sobered up a little and gave him a naturally pleased smile. “I’m just happy about what it means.”

He scoffed at her ridiculousness. People who’d married their soulmates often got romantic notions in their heads for everybody else. Peter wasn’t going to buy into it. “I’ve already explained my reasons. I’m sorry that isn’t good enough for you.”

Talia absolutely loved her little brother. All of his eccentricities included, especially the one where he glowered like a petulant child when confronted with _feelings_. 

“Peter, are you honestly trying to tell me that you have no interest in Stiles?” She sat up straighter, and though her tone was more serious than before, she still wore a bemused smile. “You sent Cora to school with food for the boy today!”

Peter scowled. “I sent Cora to school with food for _Cora_ today…” But then a little quieter, he added, “and for Stiles.”

She giggled and sent another grin back.

“Even if I am,” he interrupted her glee, “that’s not what this is about.” He pulled out his phone, unlocked it and tossed it over to her. “Check out the pictures from Cora’s text. He doesn’t even live in his father’s house.”

And that was like a nice bucket of ice water on her parade. She did look at them, for several minutes, she looked at them. And she didn’t look happy anymore. Conveniently, that was when the wards around the house were breached.

“That’ll be Steve,” Peter told her. “I’ll be right back.”

* * *

When Derek got back to the house that night, Talia could feel him hovering a bit outside of the library doors. The curtains were drawn on the glass windows, but she knew he was standing out there.

Derek had always been a good boy though, respectful of his alpha’s privacy. She smiled at the thought of her son as she felt him move away, and gave another smile when she could hear the tinkering in the kitchen.

Steve had been at the house for a few hours by then. They started their conversation with pleasantries, _how’s the family?_ and _how’s the business?_ Which turned into a fact-finding mission about Stiles.

Talia was happy to be included in that conversation, and that Peter hadn’t seen the need to have it privately. Maybe it meant he was growing as a person, and maybe it just meant there was a threat headed their way and he didn’t want to waste time relaying the details.

Before they could do more than briefly outline the plan for the build on the old foundation, which Peter was hoping Steve would be a part of, the man casually asked where the third Hale alpha was.

Peter had grinned at that. He hadn’t told his friend about that particular change, but in no way had he thought it wouldn’t be noticed.

Steve sent him his own self-satisfied smirk, amused at the little test. But it was Talia who’d answered.

Marcus had taken the day to visit the nearby Ito pack to both warn them of the alphas headed their way, but also to request their support. And all of that was in addition to informing their neighbor that the Hale pack now had three alphas among their own ranks.

To say the messenger was bringing tense news was an understatement. Satomi Ito was a good woman, a good alpha. But she was known for having a somewhat volatile temper. Talia and Peter were both a little concerned for his absence. He had taken Laura with him, but if things went south, the rest of the pack was at too far of a distance to offer immediate support.

Which meant their conversation did have a time limit, as Talia was due for a check in with her husband soon. She led them from the library to the kitchen, where Derek was just finishing up a pot of coffee on the counter.

“Oh, thank you sweetheart,” she said, greeting him with a kiss to the temple. “Could you grab our guest a cup?”

Derek looked up, clearly having only expected his uncle, and watched as Steve entered the room behind the two of them.

“Derek this is Steven O’Brien.” Talia introduced. “He did a lot of the groundwork on the house when we rebuilt it. He also runs the mechanic shop out by the diner.”

“Yeah, I know the place,” Derek said as he shook the man’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Peter watched closely as Steve seemed to hold on for a moment longer than normal, and visibly shook himself as he let go. A quick glance at Talia said she had noticed too.

“You too,” he smiled warmly at Derek. “And it’s just Steve. Your mom and uncle have told me a lot about you. Must be nice to have college done with.”

“Yeah, I had fun, but I’m happy to be back,” he told him, the words almost sounding routine, as he set the coffee on the counter for him.

“Well if you’re looking for anything to keep you occupied, I can always make room down at the garage,” Steve offered.

At that Derek looked excited and grinned back at all three of them, “Actually, I was down at the sheriff's station today, he made the same offer.” He seemed to honestly be shy about it when he looked at Talia, “I think I might do that actually.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything, and Steve smiled like he honestly hadn’t expected Derek to take him up on the offer.

“Hey so I ran into Stiles at the diner. I offered to spend some time with him, but he turned me down.” Derek told his mom. He looked sincerely apologetic about it. 

But then he startled forward for a second and looked back at Steve when the man asked, “You know Stiles?”

“Not really, mom wanted me to help him out if I could though.” Derek pulled down extra coffee cups and went to grab the creamer from the fridge for them. “How do you know him?”

“He works for me,” Steve said around a grin.

Derek paused in the fridge door. “Huh. His brother didn’t mention that he worked there. But hey,” he said, making his way back over to the kitchen island. “That’s actually why he couldn’t hang out this Saturday. He was going to, but he said he had to check with his boss first. He said you wouldn’t let him off work.”

“Well, I’ve always thought Stiles’ help was invaluable, so I’m sorry about your plans bud.” Steve laughed a little, taking the offered creamer.

Peter knew that his nephew didn’t focus on it much, too much of a soft life, that one. But Derek could be perceptive when he wanted to be. Seeing the young man’s eyes dart around the people in the room, and the slight tensing of his features, Peter knew that Derek could pick up on the fact that there was another conversation happening here. One he wasn’t invited to.

He nodded at the room, “So… I’m gonna head up, Braeden texted me the academy requirements for the deputy position, so I’m gonna go give her a call.” He leaned in to give a quick kiss to Talia’s cheek and excused himself. 

Talia waited just long enough for Derek to make it up the stairs and for them to hear his door close before turning to Steve. “What did you see?”

Steve didn’t bother with feigned surprise. He knew that Talia was aware of his _sight_. It was one of the only abilities he’d ever confirmed. He grabbed a paper and pen off the table and drew a quick sketch. “Is this Derek’s soul mark?”

“Yes,” Peter said immediately, squinting his eyes.

“I thought so.” Steven cleared his throat and gestured to the paper after handing it off to Talia. “That’s the mark on Stiles’ arm.”

At that very moment, Peter realized he’d never seen the boy outside of long sleeves. The weather _was _getting crisp, so it could just be that the boy’s clothing choices matched the temperature, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Does Stiles know?” He asked Steve quietly.

That got a head shake from the other man. “I asked him about it once, and he told me he knew who it was, but they were older and away for school. He said he didn’t think they knew about him.”

Peter snorted and cajoled his friend, “Maybe you should’ve let him off work on Saturday…”

But Steve’s eyes never matched the humor. “That’s the thing, Stiles never called me. He never asked for the day off.”

And didn’t _that_ just suck the fun out of the air.

“What does that mean?” Talia asked.

They all seemed to think about it for a moment before Peter offered, “He could’ve turned him down because he really wanted to go to work on Saturday. What seventeen-year-old wouldn’t?”

His sarcasm was out in full force, despite the heavy underlying message of his next words. “Or, based on the general shit show that’s been his life since he was nine years old, he doesn’t trust in altruistic motivations from other people, even if that person is his soulmate. Cora seems to have gotten close, thankfully. But you should have seen his face when I gave him the leftovers last night. It was like trying to give a bowl of food to a kicked puppy.”

“Yeah, that was him over a year ago at the shop,” Steve said. “It took a long time, at least half a year, for him to realize we were all happy to have him around.”

Talia didn’t look like she was enjoying the turn the conversation had taken. Their talk of Stiles earlier had been more lighthearted.

“When we came over to help him with his clubhouse, he just kept saying thank you. It was painful in a way, and all the guys made an effort after that. Nothing big, just letting him know we liked him being there.”

“You helped him with that?” Peter asked.

“Just the foundation part and clearing trees. Why, have you seen it? I keep asking him for updates, but he says he’s not finished yet.”

Peter smiled and pulled out his phone again. “He showed Cora on Saturday, she’s in love with it and hasn’t stopped jabbering about it yet. I have the pictures, here.” He handed it over and Steve looked proud before an overwhelmingly sad expression took over his face.

“He’s sleeping out there,” the man said, sounding crestfallen.

Peter sent a pointed look back to Talia and answered, “Yes, he is. You see now why I want to give him the opportunity to build somewhere better.”

Steve nodded as he looked through the pictures. “I’ve always known Stiles was on a hard road. From the day he walked into the garage, he looked like he’d already been put through the wringer and I knew,” he sighed, “I knew there was more coming for him. His mother was a close friend at one time. When she knew she wasn’t getting better, she asked me to look out for him. I didn’t understand the severity of what was happening to Stiles after she passed. It will always be one of my biggest regrets.”

He handed Peter back the phone and pushed his coffee cup on the counter, though he didn’t drink anymore of it.

“I’ve tried to give him what I can, but even with me Stiles is still withdrawn sometimes. I love that kid. And I know he loves me,” he patted his chest. “But he’s one of the most guarded people I’ve ever met. If you think this could help, then I say let’s do it.” 

Peter smiled over at the man and gave him the most heartfelt “Thank you,” that Talia had ever heard out of her brother’s mouth.

Steve looked determined after that. “I’ll get a guy out here to sand the slab down this week. It’s been what, 10 years? more? Might need to replace it actually.”

Peter shrugged in offhand agreement before stating, “Actually, before you do that, why don’t you have Stiles design something. Tell him it’s a project. Just to see what he comes up with.”

Steve liked that idea. If Stiles designed it, it might feel more like _his. _Like a place he’d be comfortable in.

After Peter saw Steve out he came back into the kitchen where Talia had poured him another cup of coffee.

“It’s going to be a late night.” She told him. "I have that check in call with Marcus in about ten minutes. When you go out to the site tomorrow, make sure you check the tunnels.”

The day after Peter came back, he surveyed each tunnel. Since then, he’d started checking them regularly, and moving supplies underground in case the alpha pack was too big of a threat. The old site of Peter’s cabin was legitimately something he wanted to give to Stiles to work on, but what good was something if it didn’t have at least three reasons for existing. 

“Did Steven say anything else?” Talia asked, almost like she was dreading the answer.

“He did, in fact.” Peter sighed out, nodding his head tiredly. “He said a storm’s coming.”

Talia pinched the bridge of her nose and slumped over the island a little. Steven had a good friendship with Peter, though he’d always kept himself separated from the Hales to some degree. She knew he had the gift of sight. But he’d made an effort not to meddle too much in other people’s lives. So, if he was warning them, it couldn’t be ignored. Storms meant danger, they meant magic.

“Did they have a witch with them?” She asked without elaborating. She knew he’d get what she was referencing.

He shook his head while answering, “No, just a Druid.” Then he looked up and caught her eyes. “A very familiar one. Marin.”

Talia gave him a narrow-eyed look at that. “Which reminds me, I haven’t heard from Alan. And considering both Scott and Isaac work for him, you would think he would’ve called me by now.”

Peter gave a dark smile back, “I’m thinking the good doctor is sitting this one out.”

And there was the Hale alpha spark, shining out of his sister’s eyes. “If that’s true, then he’s no use to us as an emissary.”

“Really?” Peter asked with a sardonic tone, “When was the last time he filled that role for this pack? Now, granted I’ve been gone a few years, but I kept in touch regularly. I can’t remember the last time I heard one of you even mention his name. Talia, love, you’re a fool to think of him as a friend at this point.”

Talia slumped over the counter again, “There’s just so much. You and Marcus are alphas now, we’ve got two freshly bitten wolves working for a Druid we don’t know if we can trust, there’s the whole Stiles and Derek situation where we’ll be lucky if _that_ doesn’t end in disaster, no emissary, and now there’s an alpha pack gunning for us.”

Peter held a finger up at her rant. “I’m offended you included me on that list. A, Marcus and I are handling the change just fine. B, we’ll chain the brats up if we need to. C, you let me and Steven take care of Stiles. And the rest of it’s business as usual. We’re werewolves, darling. There’s always going to be some kind of threat to the territory.”

She smiled over at him and while she still looked tired, at least she appeared to have reset her confidence somewhat. 

Peter continued, “Alan’s biggest flaw, besides being an asshole, has always been his arrogance.”

She raised a mocking eyebrow at his statement. 

He smiled back. “Oh, I’m arrogant too, and an asshole. But I’ve earned it. And my paranoia keeps me from getting too cocky. Alan? Not so much. His downfall will be that he still expects us to trust him. So, we won’t.”

He walked around the island to give her a hug. “Well get through this, Talia. All of us. Now go call your husband and tell him to get home soon. I would very much appreciate not seeing the wrong side of the sunrise tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're halfway to the end! 
> 
> Thank you again for all of the comments and support. You guys are awesome!


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the school week were typical days for stiles. He went to school, then work at the diner. And then he came home and showered before locking his bedroom door and climbing out the window. Typical.

Even when Annie sat down for a dinner break with Stiles one night, it was typical. At least two or three nights out of the week, the dinner rush died down early enough that Annie was able to grab a bite with Stiles.

Stiles was wary or it at first, not wanting to draw the attention of the other servers when Annie first started to make it a habit. But Annie had never liked catty servers. She usually fired them the second she saw anything close to resembling ‘bully’ behavior.

And she watched everything like a hawk. Honestly, it was one of the things that Stiles liked about her the most, and probably what made him feel _okay_ being around her. She _watched_ _everyone_. He admired that. 

That being said, when they sat down for a quick dinner on Tuesday night, she’d wanted to talk about Derek. Stiles confirmed that yes, it was him, but he didn’t really want to talk about it. 

She was good in the way that she didn’t press. Sure, she occasionally got involved by offering advice or her version of a pep talk, but when he told her he was done with a topic, she dropped it.

Really, there were only two notable exceptions to the rest of the week. 

The first was that Cora now joined him for lunch at school. Every day. They had their History class right before the break, so it was easy to just go from there to the parking lot. Stiles didn’t accept her daily offer to pay for the coffee, but he did accept the food she brought.

Sandwiches mostly, because even an insulated bag wouldn’t have kept cooked food warm and enjoyable for that long. But he could tell that the sandwiches from the Hale house were made from the ‘good stuff.’ Like they went to the farmers’ market for their sandwich fixings.

Fancy, fancy. Even the containers they came in. When Cora first brought out the ceramic containers, Stiles was impressed. The fact that the sandwiches themselves were delicious were just a bonus points.

If he was honest with himself, he’d say that he and Cora were getting to be friends. He actually enjoyed their time in the Jeep, and by the end of the week, Stiles could say with certainty that he was having fun on their rides.

It helped that Cora had decided she was going to introduce him to angry girl punk music. He didn’t mind, mostly because the sight of Cora rocking out in the passenger seat was hilarious and never failed to make him laugh.

Friday took the cake on her ridiculousness. Just as they turned back onto the street the school was on, Cora threw on a ‘classic’ that declared in it’s opening lines, ‘uh oh, we’re in trouble.’ That one had him cracking up. Both at the song which was pretty catchy, and Cora throwing herself around in her seat. Dancing, she’d called it.

She almost couldn’t wait to show him the research she’d done on tiny houses. And for most of the week, their trips to Starbucks included pictures on her phone of other tiny houses and how they were set up with electricity and plumbing.

She’d started with solar panels, which Stiles though was a really cool idea. But when she started talking about plumbing and hooking up the water to the treehouse, he just shook his head and told her that was so far beyond his skillset it wasn’t funny, and not really a viable option.

“Where would I even put that?” he’d asked, somewhat rhetorically, thinking about the small space in the room. But her ideas were fun, and if nothing else, he loved her enthusiasm. 

He’d already agreed to taking her out driving again that weekend when she brought it up. “That’s cool and all, and I have no problem doing it,” he’d told her, “but you’re going to need to have actual hours logged with someone certified to teach.”

He told her about how driving with Jordan had worked out really well for him in the long run. “He was able to sign off on my stuff. You’re still going to need the actual courses, but you can do that online, that’s fine. But you’ll need someone to log your hours. If you get started on both of those now, you can have your license as soon as you turn seventeen.”

“Is that what you did?” She asked after they’d parked.

“Yeah,” he sighed as he locked the Jeep door. He really did hate having to come back to school after having fun. “It helped that I already had the Jeep. So if Jordan was free, I could just meet him somewhere. But do you have a car?”

“No,” she grumbled, kicking her foot into the gravel and sounding dejected. “Laura and Derek have one, but they’re always busy, so…”

He smiled at her exaggerated mood. “Well, just let me know. If Jordan says yes, I can pick you up or something. I mean, if you want to keep practicing in the Jeep.”

“Dude, this is like, so awesome. If Steve says yes… if Jordan says yes…” she grinned over at him. “You’ve got all the connections, man!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah, _sure_,” but he was still smiling. “Steve said that it’s cool by the way. You just have to get permission from your mom.”

“Dude!” She jumped up a little, thrumming with energy and excitement. “Yes! She’ll totally say yes, when can I start?”

“I mean, as soon as you talk to your mom, I guess?” He was happy he could make her as thrilled as she seemed to be.

He gave her the number for the garage and told her to have her mom or dad call over. As soon as that was sorted, he’d already agreed to drop her off at the shop after school, she might need to find a ride home though. It was already Friday when they talked about it, so she wouldn’t be starting until the next week, but just the thought was enough to have her floating for the rest of the day.

Incidentally, the fact that she was so happy sort of bled through into Stiles’ emotions and created a nice, mildly happy bubble for the rest of his day.

Friday was also the day that the other anomaly for the week reared its head. Well, what happened on Friday night was sort of tied to what happened on Wednesday night. So, maybe three anomalies.

On Wednesday night, Stiles had been working at the diner, like normal, but Steve came in close to the end of his shift. He didn’t have any tables, so he was able to take a quick few minutes and go see his other boss at the front counter.

After getting Steve a coffee to go, he was surprised when he’d turned back to the counter to see the man holding up something that looked like a silver encrusted stone on a chain. He’d seen some like it around the garage. Most of the guys there had one on their keyring, and he’d seen one or two on a chain like what Steve was holding. He’d even seen something similar on Annie a time or two, but she mostly kept it tucked into whatever shirt she was wearing. 

It took him a moment to realize Steve was holding it out for him to take. He did, hesitantly, and listened as his boss told him that it was for protection and luck. He didn’t make too big of a deal about it, but on the inside, Stiles felt a bit of warmth blossom at his mentor of sorts giving him a gift he’d obviously already given to the other people in his circle.

It felt like he was being included in something. And even though the guys at the shop, and Steve himself had never said he _wasn’t _included. It somehow felt like _more_.

That wasn’t the only thing Steve gave Stiles on Wednesday night, though. He’d also given him homework. After the pendant was put away, over his head and settled on his chest, Steve told him that he wanted Stiles to do some sketches of a small house.

He gave Stiles just the basics: Design a cottage/cabin with an approximately 900-1000 sq ft base. There needed to be a basement access, and it could be two levels beyond that.

But other than that starting info, he’d left the rest open to Stiles’ interpretation. Nothing beyond cottage/cabin to give him any ideas for a design. He asked if there was a customer involved. But Steve had just smiled and said, “Not yet.”

He told him to bring what he had on Saturday and they’d take a look. It was supposed to be a slow day, so there shouldn’t be too many distractions.

Part B of that situation involved Stiles getting home on Friday night. And unfortunately for him, he came home to a full house. Including the McCalls.

His father met him just inside the door, like he’d been waiting for him, and asked if Stiles wanted to join them in the living room for a movie. 

Which stopped him in his tracks, given that it hadn’t happened in _years_. Like, at least five years if his recollection served him correctly. And it oftentimes did.

After a glance up at his father’s earnest face, he looked into the living room where Melissa was smiling over at him, seeming to encourage him to join them with her eyes. Scott and Isaac were sitting on the couch, very pointedly not turning around. 

“We still have some pizza if you’re hungry,” his father offered.

Stiles shrugged and mumbled that “I ate at the diner already.”

It didn’t change the expression on his father’s face, but he did watch as the man lifted a hand up to ruffle the back of his head and said, “Oh, okay. Well you can still join us if you want,” dropping his arm to gesture towards the living room.

Stiles watched his face for a moment longer, wondering where the offer was coming from. “I’ve got a lot of schoolwork to get started on,” he said. “So… I’m just gonna…” he motioned to the stairs.

“Sure, sure,” his dad nodded. But as Stiles turned a flash of light must have caught his eye because he squinted and reached towards Stiles’ chest. “Hey, what’s going on there, is that new?”

Before he could even really process what was happening, Stiles took a few stumbling steps away until his back was pressed up against the wall of the staircase. 

His father’s expression instantly turned to one of shock and he froze with his hand out towards Stiles. By the time he unfroze, he looked a little contrite, especially since Stiles was still pressed as far away as he could get and breathing a little heavier.

“I’ve just never seen you wear that before,” his dad said a little apologetically, motioning to the chain from Steve.

Stiles cleared his throat, though he didn’t come off the wall. “Yeah, my boss came to the diner this week and gave it to me,” he said as he reached up to hold the stone in his fist.

Which had his father’s expression turning slightly pinched. “I don’t know how I feel about a grown man giving my teenage son a necklace.”

“Stiles is wearing a necklace?” He heard Isaac ask from the couch. Scott snickered a little before he heard Melissa gently chide them both. 

Despite the obvious anxiety at the almost-too-close proximity, Stiles had gone stone faced the moment Noah started questioning him. He had no reaction to the comments from the living room, but he’d heard them just fine.

“It’s not like that. He said it was a good luck charm, or something. All the guys at work have one on a keychain or like this.” He wanted to be done with the conversation.

“This boss…” his dad started. “He’s from the auto shop?” At Stiles’ nod he continued, “Is that such a good idea? You shouldn’t try to take on so many hours with work, you’re still in high school. I don’t want you falling behind.”

And that was when Stiles decided he didn’t just want to be done with the conversation; he was _actually _done. “I’ve been working both jobs since right after I turned sixteen,” he told him coldly. “That’s almost two years. My grades haven’t suffered. But they might if I don’t get started on my homework. May I be excused?”

Noah looked like he wanted to protest, but when faced with Stiles’ attitude of indifference, he sighed, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” and stepped away.

By the time Stiles had showered and finished his class work, he could still hear the tv and voices floating up from downstairs. Normally, he’d head out to the treehouse and relax or just sleep, but that night was the first time his father had confronted him about anything since right after he got back. 

He didn’t trust that the man wouldn’t come up and check on him before bed. There was a first time for everything.

So, he stayed in his room, and pulled out his sketch pad. Steve had said he wanted to see something by the next day, and while he already had some decent sketches, they could use another look through, maybe some edits.

He got lost in the sketches and calculations for a while, and when he heard the front door opening and closing, he got his stuff ready to head out for the night.

If the McCalls had just left, Noah and Isaac probably wouldn’t be up for much longer. When he heard footsteps on the stairs, he braced himself for a knock at his door.

But it never came.

He heard both of their doors close down the hall, and let out the breath he’d been holding. He gave it another ten minutes, slung his backpack with his sketchbook inside over his shoulder, and quietly climbed out the window.

Just as he was about to reach the thick cluster of tree branches that masked the treehouse from view, he stopped and snapped his head over to the tree line at the edge of the backyard. 

There was nothing there. But for a second, he could swear he saw a flash of red lights in the trees. He watched for a few more moments, unaware that he was holding on to the stone around his neck until he felt it digging into his palm.

But after he didn’t see anything else, he shook his head and moved forward to unlock his door. He’d already stayed up late enough. 


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles grabbed his bag on the way out of the Jeep Saturday morning. He’d brought his sketchbook with him but also his coveralls. Steve hadn’t said they’d _only _be working on the design today, and he had already promised one of the guys that he’d help out with a transmission that weekend.

Weekends were fully staffed for them. The place was open seven days a week, but Steve took off on Monday and Tuesday so he could pull the weekend shift. They actually got a lot of business on the weekend, seeing as they were the only place open. And a lot of people who needed car repairs didn’t want to have to take a day off work to get it done. 

Getting the skills he would need as a mechanic was something Stiles took seriously ever since he’d started there when he was sixteen. It wasn’t like he couldn’t be called an actual mechanic before, but Steve had said he wanted Stiles to have a high school diploma and turn eighteen before he would hire him full time.

The first criteria was over a year away, but the second was coming up soon. And he wanted to make the most of the learning opportunities before he graduated. Which meant transmissions.

It wasn’t necessarily fun, but it was interesting. Figuring out how pieces fit together to make a car run had been one of the best things about working at the garage.

A machine could be broken, but it could also be fixed. Sometimes it was like a puzzle, trying to figure out where the problem was. But after it was identified, there was a solution. No matter how big or small the job was, it was always as simple as that.

So, when he got to the garage that morning and Steve wasn’t in yet, he quickly pulled on his coveralls and prepped the car for work. He got lost in it until around ten thirty when Alex, the actual mechanic on the job came over to check on him.

“That’s good work, kid. Real good,” the man told him after Stiles brought him up to speed on what he’d done so far. “Steve’s looking for you, he’s in the back.”

Stiles washed his hands off, getting them as clean as he could before stowing his coveralls in his locker and heading out to the workshop behind the garage. It was as big as the garage itself, more like a hanger with big open bay doors, but cars didn’t go in there.

Instead, Steve had converted the space for his woodworking business he had on the side. Most of the time, it was just jobs for custom furniture, but he also did remodels of homes occasionally.

After Stiles had told him he was interested, Steve had brought him through the garage and showed him where the magic happened. Stiles was instantly in love with the work.

Mechanic work was cool, and it let him disappear in his head and just focus on fixing something. But working in the back with Steve meant he was _creating_ something. It offered it’s own escape, not unlike the cars did, but different enough that he felt happy when he was done.

When Stiles walked through to the back, Steve looked up from a bit of sanding on a table he was working on and smiled. He was wearing a mask, but Stiles could see the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

“Do you have your book?” Steve asked, setting the sander aside and pulling off his mask before meeting Stiles at the drafting tables. “How’s the design coming, finished?” 

“Almost,” he replied, setting his bag on one of the stools and pulling out the sketchbook. “There’s a part I’m not happy with though, I wanted to show you.”

Steve went over the ideas for the floorplan, pointing out a couple areas where Stiles could maximize the space. “But you don’t need to stick with just one plan. If you think of a different layout, just move to a new page.”

Stiles nodded, getting his pencils ready. “You said a thousand square feet max?”

“Eh,” Steve shrugged. “For the ground level maybe. But that can change. It’s up to you, you’re the artist here.”

Stiles scoffed, but it was in good humor. “Yeah, okay. I’m just not feeling two floors. Or if I do, maybe just like a library. Or a study? But with a half floor above for the library.”

“Show me how you’d do it.” Steve pulled up another stool and opened the larger sketchpad on the table. Stiles didn’t like using the large sheets on a first draft, but Steve did so he set the book aside and started drafting lines.

The new design included a lot from Stiles’ previous sketch, but he added a whole extra area for the new space.

“What about branching out for the bedrooms,” Steve murmured, getting into the sketch. “Get them out of the main area right here, and you could have more of an open feel to it. Especially if you’re thinking of a single floor.”

Stiles nodded, looking away from the ruler to where Steve was pointing to the sides of the structure. “Oh, hey,” Stiles started. “Cora said her mom would probably be calling you. You said you wanted to talk to them first, right?”

Steve chuckeld and was about to reply when someone opened the door to the shop from the garage. Stiles looked up at the newcomer and froze in shock.

“Dude, are you everywhere?” He asked in exasperation at the sight of Peter Hale walking towards them with a big grin on his face as a response.

“Stiles,” he smiled, pulling another stool up on Steve’s other side. “Always a pleasure. Steve told me you two were going to be working on the design for the place today. I wanted to stop in and see how it was coming?”

“You two know each other?” Stiles asked. “You know about my design?”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “Stiles, meet Peter Hale: Our potential customer.”

He took a second to reorder his thoughts on the work, adding Peter’s name at the top. Steve had told him there was no customer_ yet._ Apparently, that had changed. But he did say ‘potential,’ so maybe it wasn’t completely firm.

Peter hummed over the work on the drafting table, “What are you thinking of for the facade?”

If he wanted to be taken seriously about his design work, Stiles would need to learn to talk to customers and potential buyers. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Well, Steve said it was for a cottage or cabin, so a lot of stone popped up in my head.”

“Stone’s good,” Steve agreed and Peter nodded. “Are you thinking of the whole thing or just the front?”

He kind of liked that Steve wasn’t throwing him to the wolves. That the man was acting as a buffer, but also as a helpful voice. 

“Nah, I hate it when it’s just the front. I was thinking like English Cottage. But the inside,” he gestured back to the sketch in front of him, “I laid out the inside to be more open and not the tight corners and small rooms that I saw in a lot of the designs online.”

“That’s a lot of window space there,” Peter mused, looking at the quick, hand drawn placement he’d jotted down already.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah it goes with the whole open feel. It can stay one level and still feel like a bigger space with the windows. But if you were thinking of two floors, I could change that.”

Peter looked like he was pondering the idea for a minute before Stiles’ stomach grumbled and he raised an eyebrow over at the interruption. He was smirking though. “How about we take a break for lunch and come back to this?”

Steve clapped his hands once and stood up. “That actually sounds like a great idea. Stiles, you want to get the orders from the guys and do a pick up run?”

There was always a run to get lunch for the guys on the weekends. Mostly they stuck to the diner, since they had the shop’s credit card on file and could just charge it. They rotated gopher duty, but honestly, Stiles didn’t mind.

Steve said it would work out well, since he could get the paperwork for Cora settled with Peter while he was gone.

He didn’t feel overwhelmed with the draft or with Peter, and Steve never threw him in the deep end unless he was sure Stiles could swim. So, he took a deep breath and tried to trust in that as he left Peter at the drafting table to look over his sketches after getting his food order.

Annie wasn’t working the front since it was the weekend and she had those off, but the on-duty manager knew Stiles and had expected someone from the shop to be stopping by. She took his order to the back and got it put in the queue.

It was only about a ten minute wait, but he wasn’t that close to any of the servers on the floor, so he sat at the counter and looked up more cottage designs on his phone.

The Styrofoam boxes of each meal were loaded into a large box that made hauling out the big order a lot easier than indivually. Thankfully, Steve kept a fridge at the garage fully stocked with drinks, so he didn’t need to try and navigate that nightmare of a transport.

Over lunch, Steve filled Stiles in on the fact that Peter had been a friend of his for a while, and how he’d mentioned wanting to build his own place a little ways away from the main house on Hale land. But that there was no rush on the job.

It settled Stiles some when Peter mentioned that he loved his family very much but, “Sometimes life in a busy house can be a little grating. I can’t really see myself living far from them, but I like to daydream about having my own place.”

By the time they were done eating, Stiles was excited to get back to the drawings. He’d started to ask Peter questions, trying to probe for information that would give him an idea on the man’s style.

Steve hadn’t really given him a job like the cottage design before. But he’d talked about working with customers, and that sometimes they didn’t know what they wanted until they were shown some options. He had already laid out a foundational structure, but he told Peter that, “We have erasers for anything that you hate, just let me know.”

Overall though, it felt good. It felt like a bit of confidence that Steve trusted him with this, and that Peter seemed to really be interested in his ideas.

After about fifteen minutes of Stiles showing Peter possibilities for the place, like the second floor for the library, or whether the bedrooms should have en suite bathrooms, even how many bedrooms to put in, things started to get a little frustrating.

Peter had no opinions. Apart from saying he liked the ideas, he offered no definitive choices to the sketch. Which struck Stiles as odd; surely there were things that Peter would want in a house that maybe Stiles hadn’t considered. 

But there was nothing like that forthcoming. Peter was saying something else though. Something that was intriguing to Stiles, but he couldn’t put his finger on it exactly.

It happened when Peter asked for the third time, “If you were living there, is that how you would want it?” There was a _way_ Peter had said it that confused Stiles, and he couldn’t ignore it.

He tried, he really did. He tried not to fall into being suspicious of everyone, but there was something he wasn’t seeing. He knew there was. 

Something about the whole situation had him thinking of the first episode of one of his favorite shows. He could hear Rami Malek talking about how the free wifi in a café was _‘so good, it scratched that part of my mind that doesn’t allow good to exist without condition.’_

Stiles put the pencil down and sat up straight. He didn’t look at either man, instead staring at the blank wall ahead while he connected some dots.

He’d shown Cora the treehouse. She knew he more or less lived out there. Cora took pictures. Cora lives with Peter. He’s her uncle. What are the odds she didn’t show him those pictures?

Steve is Peter’s friend. Steve helped him start to build the treehouse. Steve has been asking to see how it’s coming along lately. Steve told him there wasn’t a client. Peter’s the client. 

Peter brought Stiles home-cooked food to the driving lesson. Cora’s been bringing them Tupperware full of lunch from her uncle all week and talking about ‘upgrades’ to the treehouse. 

The Hales have more money than God. Rich people are sometimes philanthropists. Peter wants Stiles to design this house the way Stiles would want it if he lived there. Peter wants to give Stiles a house. 

And it was all a trick. 

All of the tiny little dots that didn’t really mean anything when they were taken by themselves. But when they were put together, they formed a picture.

They had all, at some point been talking about Stiles. They had all decided on what was _best_ for him. They thought they knew what he needed better than him. Of course they did. People always do. 

No one had talked to Stiles to ask him what _he _wanted. They’d all just decided on it behind his back.

But Stiles wasn’t a little kid anymore. He was an adult now, or close enough anyway. He didn’t need _anyone_ making decisions for him about his own life. In less than three months he’d be eighteen. He didn’t need anyone, he could take care of himself.

Right now, even, if he had to. 

And that thought had a burst of warmth spreading across his chest. Not burning really, not like the soul mark had felt before when Derek ignored him, and then the actual burns when he told the deputy he wasn’t interested. 

It was a soothing warmth. It felt safe. It felt like it was his. And the only response he could come up with was a feeling that whispered, _welcome home. _

He’d trusted Cora. And Steve. He’d let them in. A little at least. What had he learned about trusting people? What had he learned? God, he was so stupid. 

The whole time he was thinking, which really only lasted about a minute, Stiles’ expression faded out to nothing, but the other men could feel the tension radiating off of him. 

“I don’t need your charity,” Stiles muttered. Not really addressed to either of them. Or maybe to both. 

Peter was impressed Stiles had reached that conclusion as quickly as he had, but it was the opposite reaction from what he’d been hoping for. And Steve was in an instant damage control mode. 

“Stiles, it’s not charity,” Steve told him, keeping a gentle tone. “It’s not. We all just want you to have somewhere safe, somewhere that’s yours.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. 

“Who’s _we_?” Stiles looked over at him again. Watching for an answer. And Steve was instantly heartbroken that the face looking back at him was the same one he’d seen two years ago. 

After everything Stiles had been through in the last eight, almost nine years, he had gone so deep inside his head that he reacted to almost any friendly hand the way an injured and cornered animal would. He didn’t trust it wasn’t going to hurt him. 

He’d been doing better. In the last two years, Stiles had started connecting with a handful of people. Every inch was hard fought for, but he’d come so far. Steve could almost see it disappearing before his eyes like he was watching that trust slide back down a steep ravine into the dark corners of the kid’s head. 

He knew what an injured animal eventually did when they felt cornered. They fought. And Steve was worried about when the day would come that Stiles would lash out to protect himself. 

It hadn’t happened yet, thank god. But as he watched Stiles slowly get up from the stool to face him, he thought he might be getting a look at it now. 

He knew the boy standing in front of him. But at the same time, Steve had never seen him before. There was a gracefulness to his movements. One he had expected to see in time. But not yet. Not like this.

It was too soon, and Steve hadn’t had the time to prepare him. He’d been so careful not to push too early. So careful with the timing of everything. But Stiles was smart. He’d jumped to the right conclusions, but they were tainted by everything that had come before.

Instead of seeing a gift, seeing genuine care from them, Stiles saw it as a trap. And all of that careful work was going down the drain right in front of them. 

Stiles watched Steve’s face fall, waited for a few more moments for an answer that wasn’t coming, and snorted meanly at the man. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Peter watched as Stiles’ head tilted to the side a fraction and a dark, sinister smirk came over the boy’s face as he stared down his boss. There was a strange energy of a power play happening in the room and he felt it was better to stay quiet and observe from several feet away. Stiles hadn’t looked at him again after his eyes caught onto Steve, and Peter didn’t really want them to.

This was a Stiles he hadn’t seen before, and he doubted many, if _any_, had. 

This wasn’t a kid looking at Steve. Annie had told Peter that sometimes when she looked at Stiles, she thought she was looking at an old man. It was just the way he carried himself, she’d said. 

Peter could see it now. Stiles looked ancient, timeless. There was a cold hardness that had settled into his expression. A gradual smoothing out of his skin, that if Peter hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t believe it. 

And he watched as an icy intelligence shone out of Stiles’ eyes that had no business being on the face of a seventeen-year-old.

It was an awareness that said he didn’t just know where the pieces were on the board… it was his board. He’d made it, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with the pieces. 

Peter watched Steve hold himself in a way that wasn’t threatening exactly, but it was being cautious of Stiles’ movements. At the same time though, the man wasn’t backing down from the boy’s steady gaze.

The energy in the room suddenly swelled to the point that Peter swore he could hear a humming and feel the temperature drop. The animal side of him had his instincts screaming to back off, get somewhere safe. But Peter wasn’t the left hand for nothing. He stood his ground, although the thought of drawing Stiles’ attention to himself had a spike of terror flash in his chest. 

With another sneer at Steve, Stiles stalked out of the room and left the garage entirely. Peter could hear the Jeep start up, and kept an ear out as it pulled away from the lot. 

“Okay,” Peter turned to his friend when he felt like it was safe to breathe again. “I think you need to tell me a little more about Stiles, hmm?”

Steve looked over at Peter with a blank expression to rival any the alpha had seen on Stiles so far. “I think I need to tell you about a lot of things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Here. We. Go.
> 
> We're diving into the deep end with this chapter. The next one should explain what's going on with all this...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last Trigger Warning before it's too late. 
> 
> Seriously, if anything from the master list at the beginning of Chapter 1 is something you are struggling with, please take a moment to consider whether or not you feel prepared to encounter those topics. If not, then continuing on to this Chapter may not be the safest thing for you, or you may want to skip to Chapter 11.

When Stiles had left the shop to get the lunch order, Steve had cautioned Peter to be careful with him. “This is a delicate situation, Peter,” he’d warned. “I get that you want to make a grand gesture with all of this, but you can’t go too fast with Stiles. He’s too smart for that.”

Peter rolled his eyes back at his friend. “You know, Talia said something like that to me the other day. I don’t know why the two of you seem to think this is some kind of courting gift. I’m just trying to make sure the kid has a place to live.”

Steve shook his head, grinning at Peter’s casual tone. “Because it _is _a courting gift,” he laughed. “You like him, more than I’ve seen you like anyone in a long time. You look at him like you’re looking at the stars. I’ve seen you.”

Peter grumbled back that Steve hadn’t “_seen_ anything.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” Steve chuckled back. “But now that you mention it… Do you want to know what I _did _see?”

He thought about it for a moment. Steve had always been open with Peter for the most part about his abilities. He didn’t meddle as a general rule, but Steve had told him once that sometimes it was fun.

He didn’t verbally acknowledge that his curiosity wanted answers, but he tilted his head from side to side before looking back at the other man and raising his eyebrows in a ‘go on’ gesture.

“You could be good for him,” Steve said seriously. “You could be that missing piece that can guide him though this whole mess. When I see you look at him, the word _beloved_ comes to mind. And you could be that for each other.”

“But?” Peter know when there was a catch.

Steve pressed his lips together. “But… it’s delicate. Like I said. This isn’t the kind of thing you can force.”

Peter mused over the information. Besides Annie, where he’d admitted it himself before there was anything really there to talk about, this now made two people who knew Peter and had confronted him about his interest in Stiles. It was just his luck that those two people had never played into Peter’s act before. And they didn’t seem to want to let this whole ‘Stiles’ thing fade into the background.

But they were right. He knew they were right. He wasn’t entirely cold and dead on the inside yet. Close, but not all the way. And Steve had been correct in that he looked at Stiles like a star. He shined too brightly for Peter to not be sucked in.

He gave Steve a nod and went back to pondering over his plans while the other man went to get the paperwork for Cora.

Stiles really had a knack for design, Peter mused as he looked over the main sketch on the table. He’d left the smaller notebook sitting off to the side, and Peter couldn’t help himself from opening it up and looking through.

There were sketches of the cottage. Some with dimensions added, and then there were others that showed detailed art of an exterior mockup. Stiles had captured the stonework he’d talked about before in the drawing, and Peter was drawn in by how beautiful it looked.

That insatiable curiosity had him flipping to earlier pages where he found the layout of the treehouse, and some hand drawn sketches of the inside.

Steve came back in with a few papers for Peter to sign and caught him looking through the drawings. “Talented, isn’t he.”

“Hmmm,” Peter acknowledged, turning another page to see where Stiles had drawn his reading area, and another page where he’d measured out the dimensions of the bookshelf he’d seen in an earlier drawing. 

Stiles had detailed everything about the treehouse, and it seemed like he’d done it before he’d had it built. But he had everything down. Even the door.

He told Steve about watching him the night before, “You know he’s got a lock on that door?” He didn’t want the take the conversation to a dark place, but he felt the need to bring it up. “I went for a visit last night, just to get a feel for the place. He climbed out of the window and walked across the roof so silently it would make a wolf proud. But he’s got a, no kidding, security lock on that door.”

Steve didn’t say anything beyond furrowed brows at the thought, and Peter turned back to the drawings.

“The chair’s a little different,” he said, handing over the book in favor of the documents Cora would need to start apprenticing under Steve in the shop. “But it looks very much like the pictures. He’s got a good eye for it.”

Steve grinned. “I know. He’s great with the cars, but if he puts his mind to this kind of work, he could go far with it.”

Peter took the pen Steve offered and flipped through the papers, signing where needed. “Oh, I see how it is…” He said with an airy, but accusatory voice. “I want to give Stiles a place to live and you all jump down my back about ‘_what it means.’_ But you want to give him a business and nobody says a word about that…”

Steve’s face reflected the mirth he found with Peter’s comments. “I’m his boss. And he’s my apprentice. Why wouldn’t I set him up for success in business? Besides, I’m not _giving_ it to him. He’d be working here, with me. Like he already does.”

“Eh,” Peter sent back. “tomato, to-mah-to.”

Steve shook his head at his friend again and gathered up the papers for Cora before excusing himself to go file them.

When Stiles came back with the food, he was still in a relaxed mood, and Steve had been impressed with the lightheartedness of their conversation over lunch.

He could tell shortly after they’d started to go over the designs again that Stiles was starting to retreat behind his barriers again, and then things went sideways.

He didn’t know what exactly tipped Stiles off, but he watched as those barriers slammed down so hard and fast, there was nothing he could say that would get them back on track.

And then Stiles challenged him. _That,_ he had not seen coming.

When Peter asked him to explain what had just happened following Stiles’ departure, Marcus had sent Peter a text requesting he get home immediately. 

Steve told him it was good timing, and suggested they talk about what had just happened with the rest of the Hale alphas. It was time he let Talia know what was happening in the territory anyway.

He left the garage to the senior mechanic to lock up at the end of the day, not thinking for a second that he’d be back in time, and the headed out.

They met in the Hale house, sequestered away in the library, all four of them: Talia, Peter, Marcus, and Steve.

Peter gave them the recount of the afternoon, getting sad eyes from Talia when he told her about the way Stiles reacted to the idea of the cabin. She took his hand for a quick, tight squeeze and promised that they just, “Have to be patient. We’ll give him some space and let him cool down for a bit.”

Peter snorted tiredly and explained that “Yeah, I don’t think it’s going to be that simple…” and told them about what he’d seen and felt from Stiles when the boy had stood up to face Steve.

Talia turned to the other man to get his account, and Steve was about to start in on the details from his perspective, but Marcus stopped him.

“Before we get too far into that,” he redirected them to look at the laptop, “I think you all need to see what I found.”

After the barbecue, Marcus hadn’t been satisfied with the sheriff’s story about Stiles, or what they’d found in the facility records. Steve hadn’t known about that, so they took a moment to fill him in on the backstory.

To say he was unhappy with the sheriff’s account of the reasons for residential treatment was an understatement. He’d know Stiles had been there. Not at the time, but he’d learned about it later. It was too sensitive a subject for him to broach with the boy, but he’d always been curious for the man’s reasons to take such a drastic action.

He didn’t believe in the fire setting story for a second. Also, there was something he didn’t trust about the treatment notes in the file, and he let the room know that.

“Neither did we.” Marcus agreed with a grim nod. “So, I started digging into Eichen House itself.”

They gathered around behind Marcus’ chair while he pulled up his research on the laptop. “I think all of us know what kinds of creatures are kept there. Well, the kinds Alan tells us about. And we’ve all been happy they have really good locks on the doors. But they don’t lock their databases with the same security. That’s how we got Stiles’ file.”

Opening up another folder he told them, “But the file didn’t have everything. So when I looked through the rest of their database, I found these.” Inside the folder were a lot of tiny video thumbnails. _A lot_ of them. “They filmed everything.”

The folder was titled ‘Nogitsune.’

“Oh, god,” Steve said in horror. He had an idea about what that could mean, but it didn’t hold a candle to what they saw when Marcus clicked ‘play’ on the first recording.

There was a doctor narrating on screen for the first video and Marcus turned up the speakers even though they could all hear it just fine. As soon as the talking started Peter let out a deep, rumbling growl. He recognized the speaker, though the man’s face wasn’t on the screen.

All of the Hale wolves recognized that voice. It belonged to their former emissary. And make no mistake about it, they might have had suspicions about his loyalty recently, but if he was involved in this he wasn’t just going to be an ex-emissary. He was an enemy to the pack.

Talia put a hand on Peter’s arm to calm him and they watched.

They watched as Stiles came on the screen. A smaller, younger version of the teenager they knew now. For the next hour, they watched video after video of the worst thing they could imagine for the boy. And it was all narrated by Alan. Everything done to him, everything the experiments were hoping to achieve. Alan explained it all to the viewer.

They watched Stiles get injections. There a lot of those. Some to block memory like in a typical anesthetic, but some of them are just to see what would happen.

They watched him drown twice, once in normal water, once in ice water.

They watched him get electroshock treatment. They watch the nogitsune take over.

They watched a time lapsed video of Stiles strapped to a gurney in a dark cell, as Alan told the camera that ‘the subject’ had been restrained in the room for a full month, and that his body was somehow being sustained without food or water. They heard Alan tell them that he doesn’t sleep.

They watched as Stiles ‘wakes up’ during the possession, and the seamless transition back to the creature.

They watched as Alan, on the screen for the first time, gave Stiles an injection of something in his neck, and then stood back as the child really woke up. The video showed at least a full minute of him screaming in terror before one of the other doctors gave him another shot and he passed out.

Talia had started to cry at that one, but she wasn’t the only one with wet eyes. Peter’s eyes were filled with tears, but the rage he felt at everything on the screen carried him past that sadness.

He couldn’t go back in time and save Stiles from what happened, but he felt like he somehow owed it to the boy to not look away. To be there with him through it, even if it was too late to stop it. 

They watched as Stiles began to convulse and vomit, except he was vomiting fabric, what looked like gauze.

And then, where there had been one child, there was suddenly two. There were videos of the two boys in matching cells. Both curled up like the tiny, frightened, and traumatized children they were.

Alan’s voice was never absent from the video. And they listened as the man spoke about how the nogitsune was a master manipulator. And that it could mimic the host so well, there wasn’t really any hope of differentiating between them.

They gassed the cells. Both boys suffocated.

Eventually, the doctors sent a sacrificial lamb into each room. Only one walked out alive.

When they watched that particular video, Peter felt a small measure of glee when he saw the child lure the orderly in, only to jump up and bite through his throat, spitting the flesh out on the floor as arterial blood soaked his face.

The creature, the nogitsune, laughed about that for a long time. If it wasn’t so terrifying to see a small child reveling in the blood of its victim, tearing open the chest and pulling out the dead man’s insides… Peter might have been impressed.

Oh, who was he kidding, he was absolutely impressed. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t horrified as well.

And that was when they transferred Stiles back above ground and ‘treated’ him for nightmares and delusions.

Peter thought back to the terror he felt in the garage, watching Stiles’ entire demeanor shift from resigned depression to a sinister arrogance.

“Is there any way that thing got out?” He asked Marcus, almost in a whisper. Talia’s hand, that had never left his arm, dug in at the suggestion. They were wolves, they were alphas. But that didn’t mean they wanted to go up against that creature.

“No,” Marcus told them with disgust. “There’s new videos too.” He skipped past the counseling sessions with Stiles, though Peter would absolutely be going back for those later, and selected another video.

“They released him when they got the nogitsune to separate itself from his body.” Marcus told them. “But they’ve kept it locked in a cell at Eichen.”

No matter how far into the future those videos got, the creature still looked like a ten-year-old Stiles. Creepy in some of the videos, but begging someone to help him in others.

“If it wasn’t this thing, then what happened today.” Peter asked Steve. “What was that?”

“That was Stiles,” Steve answered. “The adult version.”

He sighed and sat down for the first time since Marcus had started playing the videos. “To tell you that story, I have to tell you about me.” He took a deep breath and looked Talia in the eye. “Stiles and I are both fae. We’re elves.”

Peter had already known about Steve, to a degree, but the others hadn’t. To be fair, Peter had known Steve was fae, but the part about elves had been purely speculation up until that point. He was pleased his guess had been accurate, but he wasn’t about to stop Steve for a second if the man was going to explain things.

He told them a little about the races of fae, and how some of them were truly horrible creatures that needed to be put down, but that some of them were peaceful.

“Stiles’ mother, Claudia came from elven heritage.” Steve told them.

They were both, she and Steven the descendants of the last noble Elves on earth, before the race dispersed around the globe. Once, there had been whole civilizations, but warring between the families had seen an end to that.

Elves could live for a long time, centuries if they wanted to. But Claudia had done something Steve would never risk. When she married a human, she’d chosen to tie herself to the nemeton.

Steve hadn’t agreed with her decision, warning her that it was too dangerous. They’d argued about it for a long time, heated debates where Steve had been left near tears about what he could see coming.

“When the tree was cut down,” he told them, “she deteriorated rapidly. We have magic, natural magic from the earth, all elves do. And all of us can tap into it. But by tying herself to that tree, she entwined their fates. There was nothing I could do.”

She’d been a close friend, a sister almost. And he’d mourned her loss greatly. She’d made him promise before the end, that when the time came, he would watch over her son.

“That’s expected to happen on his 18th birthday,” he said. “But age is an arbitrary number. It was supposed to be on his eighteenth birthday, because that’s the age most people believe they’re an adult, including Stiles.”

He took another deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “What I believe happened today, was Stiles deciding that he’d reached that milestone. He would’ve felt the energy flood into him, he would’ve felt powerful. And he would’ve been right. If pressed, he would’ve fought his way out of there, and we would be lucky to be alive.”

Peter had zero problem believing that was true. He had felt incredibly small and insignificant in those moments at the end of the confrontation.

“Young elves coming into their power are like rattlesnakes.” Steve clarified. “They don’t realize proportionate response, so they fight with everything they have. And everything Stiles has? Can level this entire town.

“When I met him as a child,” he smiled at the recollection. “He was a sweet boy, and so loving with Claudia. But he had a light inside that was so bright, it was wonderful. Elves can’t access anything until they reach adulthood. He wouldn’t have been able to stop what happened in that place,” he waved a hand towards the laptop.

“Without his mother around to protect him, and me without access to him…” Steve said, sadness returning to his features. “There was no way to keep him safe from what happened. He wouldn’t have had the power to do that. But he has it now, and that could turn out to be very bad for all of us.”

The Hales took in the information overload with as much dignity as possible. Which meant they looked shell shocked mostly. They hadn’t known about Stiles’ potential, but it changed nothing about their desire to help him. Not even when Steve explained that the ‘coming of age’ moment for young fae was when they chose between good and bad, light and dark.

“For the last two years, Stiles has had a mentor with me, and a protector with another fae in the area,” Steve said. And that was another bit of new information for the room.

They’d had no idea there was another one in town, and Talia straightened up, instantly captivated. “Another elf?” She asked.

“No,” he told her. “Stiles’ guardian is from different blood. He’s perfectly suited to the job, think of it like a birthright.”

The subject of fae honestly hadn’t come up much. Peter had educated himself as much as possible way back when he first met Steve. But outside of that friendship, they hadn’t interacted with any others. That they knew of.

“And is this guardian with him now?” Marcus asked.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” There was still a lot of the situation that Steve would need to see Stiles again to asses. “If what happened this afternoon was Stiles’ awakening like I think it was, his guardian might not have known what to do with that.”

“But he could keep Stiles safe?” Marcus continued. “If the guardian is with him, he might not go dark?”

Steve sighed, looking somewhat resigned to the situation. “Elves can go either way when they turn. And a lot of that is based on who they are mentally when that time comes. Think of it like the Kanima to some extent. Except there is no master. The only one giving the orders to a dark fae, specifically one of the elvish bloodlines, is themselves. Their guardians are just along for the ride.”

It was something Steve had been very cognizant of considering Stiles’ background. It was, as he had put it to Peter earlier, delicate.

Steve shook his head and was about to continue when his phone rang. “That’ll be him now, actually.”

The three wolves stood there a little perplexed, and little amused when they realized the man had programed a personalized ringtone for the caller. Steve had answered it pretty quick, but they caught the opening lines of Renegade by Styx. Peter couldn’t help an exhausted chuckle at the sound.

On any other day, that would have been comical. As it was, Talia was still trying to release the tension she’d been holding since they’d started the videos.

Steve took the call and stepped away, not really enough distance for a private call in a room with wolves, but enough to take him out of the immediate vicinity. They respected the implication.

“He’s on his way,” he told them when he came back to the group. “Peter you know him, and I’ll let him introduce himself to you all when he gets here, but for the last two years, Deputy Jordan Parrish has been keeping an eye on Stiles. As his guardian.

“Deputy, as in, he works with Stiles’ father?” Marcus asked, a note of judgement in his tone.

Steve nodded. “I’ll let him explain when he gets here, but yes.”

Talia left the room to grab a drink for everyone and wait for the new arrival, while Marcus pulled up Stiles’ counseling sessions on the laptop.

Peter spent the review of the sessions looking for faces in the room that he could hunt down. If he had his way, no one involved in the experimentation and torture of a child would be walking away.

When Jordan joined them, he got a quick recap on the videos, demanding to see them before going into any details about himself.

Marcus got up to let him drive on the laptop, and he clicked through, seeing what he needed before moving to the next, and the next, and the next. He didn’t spend as much time as the others had, but he saw enough.

“So,” Peter got his attention after he’d pushed himself away from the desk. “Steve tells us you’ve been watching out for Stiles?”

Jordan shared a look with the other fae in the room and at the man’s nod, he told Peter simply that, “I’m a Hellhound. It’s what we do.”

And that had Peter promptly taking a step back from the deputy, much to the younger man’s delight. Jordan smirked at the action and turned to Talia and Marcus to elaborate that “Hellhounds generally latch onto another fae, we protect them. Before I ever came to Beacon Hills, I felt Stiles.”

He gave a small smile at their confusion and settled back against the wall to continue. “I didn’t know it was him at the time. I didn’t even know what I was really. But something pulled me in this direction. It just felt like I needed to be here.”

He and Steve told them about meeting fairly soon after Jordan had arrived, Steve recognizing the other fae immediately. He’d become a mentor to the younger man, offering information about his kind and guiding him through his senses.

When Jordan identified Stiles as his charge, the older man explained more about the bond between a fae and a hellhound.

He was connected to Stiles on a level where he could feel when the young man was experiencing strong emotions, and he could feel what those emotions were. He would die before he let something happen to the boy.

After they’d started driving lessons, Jordan brought his concern about Stiles’ homelife to Steve. He’d already known things weren’t as happy-go-lucky as outward appearances suggested, but apart from kidnapping the boy, they had to offer their support from the outside.

And whichever way Stiles came down on the side of light vs. dark, Jordan would follow. It wouldn’t even be a choice, really.

He’d known it was coming soon, but when he felt Stiles ‘waking up’ earlier, he’d nearly crashed the squad car with the intensity of the emotions flooding in through the bond. He’d been aware enough to pull the car over, and sat there experiencing every little detail about what Stiles was going through.

“Was it dark?” Steve asked, very invested in Jordan’s side of things.

He shook his head slowly, “I can’t tell. There was rage. I know he wanted to hurt something, not… not anything specific, I don’t think. Just like… he knew he could if he wanted to.” Jordan closed his eyes, seeming to take a moment to sift through his memories. “Terror. He was frightened by something. But it was on a whole other level, like panic.”

He looked back up at Steve. “That was the one that had me pinned to the car for a while. But then nothing. After that it was nothing. He’s awake, I know that. But it’s like he’s gone offline.”

This was new to Jordan, they could all see that. And he might be a hellhound, which was chilling in itself, but he was still young. He didn’t know how to separate himself from what Stiles was experiencing. He would still need guidance and practice before an effective filter could be managed between them.

“That’s when I called you.” He told Steve. “After he went quiet, I could move again. I didn’t know it would be like this.”

Before Steve could respond, the glass door to the library opened and Cora walked in. She stood there, swallowing back tears, but they could see the tracks on her face. “He’s not picking up his phone,” she warbled out, causing Peter to quickly make his way to her and pull her into a hug. “I’ve texted and called, and he won’t pick up.”

In all the iterations of Cora’s emotional displays, Talia had never seen her daughter so despondent. Seeing it now was enough to make her own eyes sting.

She watched as Peter rocked Cora from side to side, whispering into her hair, before her eyes snapped over to Jordan.

The young hellhound suddenly pushed himself off the wall, his eyes going unfocused and then glowing amber as he sensed something they didn’t. She jumped out of his way as he barreled through the door and out of the house, oblivious to the shouts of surprise from the others.

He didn’t bother with the squad car, turning instead for the trees and sprinting away.

They’d all run after him in his hasty exit, but when they reached the porch, Peter looked at the forest for a moment and said, “I have a feeling I know where he’s headed.”

They piled into the cars and took sped away from the house, dust and gravel kicked up in their wake.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the Big Reveal: Part 2!

They had tricked him. They had all tricked him. That was ridiculous, he was the trickster. Him. No, not him. Not Stiles. The other him. There was another him.

He could hear echoes in his head. People were screaming. He was screaming. He was standing in a dirty room with cracked tiles on the walls. Someone’s hand was on his shoulder. It hurt. No. He was in his Jeep driving home.

He was standing in a room with bars on the window. He could see his dad walking away. It was bright outside, but Stiles wasn’t allowed out there. He was pounding on the glass. He wanted his dad to come back. But no matter how loud he screamed, his dad couldn’t hear him.

He was sitting in the driver’s seat in the Jeep. He was in the ditch. The hood was crumpled, and the windows were all gone. He was covered in glass. It was hot. He was too hot. He needed to go home.

He was walking in a dark corridor. Greenish lights illuminated spots as he was led down. He couldn’t see the end. The cold woman gripped his shoulder tight. She pushed him forward, telling him, “This way Stiles.” Her nails hurt.

It came in flashes, it was dark there, cold, and the air felt wet.

No. He was walking in the forest. His head was spinning. The sun was too bright, and it was too hot. He took off his flannel and dropped it on the ground behind him. He needed to go home.

His mom’s voice, calling him from a daze in the hospital. “Remember Mischief. The Jeep is yours now. You have to take care of it. Promise?”

He was being held down. Someone put a needle in his neck. He was screaming again.

He was standing in his mom’s garden in the back yard. He could see his treehouse. It was too hot.

Stiles knew enough to know that something wasn’t right. He stumbled across the yard to the outdoor garden hose. He turned it on and held it over his head for several minutes. He needed to get inside where it was safe. But he needed the water first.

Another flash of light and he was back in the room with the bars. Someone was holding a cup of water. “Drink this, Stiles. You need to drink something.”

There was poison in the water.

Someone else was talking to him. “They really need to learn, Stiles. They need to learn not to trust a fox.” He saw himself looking at him. Grinning as he whispered to him they would all pay one day.

No. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t a fox. He didn’t want to make them pay.

_We could though_, the whispers said. _We could slaughter them all. No one could stop us._

No. He needed to be inside. Stumbling over to the back door, he shouldered it open, not bothering to close it after himself. He crawled up the stairs, using his hands to help when his body felt too heavy to stand up straight.

He tripped across the floor into his room and threw up the window before pouring himself out onto the roof. He didn’t remember making it across to the treehouse, but he knew he didn’t have his keys anymore.

The door opened anyway. He fell inside, sprawled out on the floor and watched as the door closed on its own behind him and the lock clicked shut.

Silence. He heard nothing but silence and saw nothing but the inside of his room.

He could breath again. And he was so thirsty. He looked over at the table by the reading chair. There were water bottles there. Only ever water bottles. Never drink the water from the tap. Never drink the water from a cup. He needed water.

Stiles pulled his legs into his body and shakily rolled up on to his knees. Before he could do more than reach for the table, a white-hot pain seared through his skull. He cried out, collapsing back to the ground as scene after scene played out in front of him. 

Memories. Memories he didn’t remember having. His mom taking him into the woods to a giant tree. Talking to him. Telling him about the Jeep. “The Jeep is ours Mischief. Yours and mine. You can never lose it, okay?”

He heard his mom telling him it would help him find his way when he was older. He didn’t know what it meant at the time.

Memories of the cell in Eichen House. Both cells; the one above ground and the hidden one. He remembered it all as clearly as if he was still there. He was convinced he was for a moment before the vision shifted and he was somewhere else.

Why couldn’t he remember that before?

He saw the other him. The boy who looked exactly like him, who cried when he cried and screamed when he screamed.

He saw the glass wall between himself and… himself. He remembered waking up in that cell, hardly any light to see by. But enough that when he looked over at the other him, he saw the light reflect off his eyes and knew he was being watched. He huddled down under the sheet, terrified.

He remembered coming home. His new room. He remembered being alone. These weren’t dreams. They weren’t hallucinations. He hadn’t made it all up like they’d told him he did. These were memories. And there were so many.

How could he have forgotten?

Memory after memory flooded through him and he lost track of how much time passed on the floor. Hours maybe.

The sun had gone down by the time he came back to himself. He was still hot, sweating. And he was still thirsty. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, feeling a little more strength come back to him at least.

There were three water bottles. He drank them all. But it wasn’t enough.

He could go inside and get more… Someone was sure to be home by now. But there was more water inside. In the fridge, where it was cold. And he was still too hot.

It was the prospect of ice-cold water that got him up and walking back across the roof. He really didn’t know how he’d made it before without falling. Regardless, there was water downstairs.

He heard their voices first. The day had been too much, and he didn’t want to see them. But most days were turning out like that lately, even without all of the sudden memory recall he’d just gone through. And he needed the water.

Coming down the stairs he saw Derek, Scott, Isaac in the living room playing video games again. They were laughing. He felt nothing.

And he still felt nothing when Derek turned to see him as he walked by.

The older of the three paused the game, much to the displeasure of the others, and got up to walk closer as Stiles made his way towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Stiles,” Derek called to him with a smile, sounding happy to have caught him. “We were just playing some games, did you want to…” Derek’s voice trailed off as he looked Stiles up and down, frowning. “Are your clothes wet?”

That had Isaac turning to the side to look at him, rolling his eyes when he saw the state of Stiles’ pants. “You’re supposed to take your clothes off _before_ you get in the shower,” Isaac scoffed. “Come on, Derek. Just leave him alone and let’s get back to the game.”

But Derek was looking concerned at Stiles. And he supposed he did look a mess at the moment. Crinkled, soggy clothes. Hair damp from sweat, and he was pretty sure he was walking around with a low-grade fever.

“Do you need a doctor?” he asked quietly.

Stiles was watching him, not missing a single twitch of the man’s face, and he actually did look worried. He felt nothing for the care directed his way, but he did recognize that the fastest way out of a conversation was participation. “No,” he answered.

“See, he’s fine!” Isaac called back. “Now come on. I have to kick your ass before I can get the next weapon.”

Derek was still looking him over, about to relent and turn back to the couch when something must have caught his eye.

And Stiles realized in that exact moment, with sudden clarity that he wasn’t wearing his flannel anymore. And he’d left the burn uncovered because Annie told him it needed to breathe to heal. Which meant that his mark was uncovered. The mark on his arm. The same one Derek was staring at, a look of horror on his face.

“Oh God, no,” Derek mumbled. And it was enough.

If the pain from the diner had stung, this was a wildfire. Stiles gasped, feeling the pain go so deep, so fast that it took his breath and any words along with it. He couldn’t even cry out.

He stumbled into the wall, his arm out in front of him, wanting to hold it, but remembering enough to know it would hurt worse if he did.

He could hear a commotion from the couch, they were getting closer, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain. He pressed his face into the tiny corner between the wall and the doorframe, hoping the pressure on his forehead would redirect the burning that he could’ve sworn was eating through his arm all the way to the bone.

He heard his mom again. She called his name and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping he could believe she was real.

And then the pain stopped. His arm was fine, the burning was gone. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to look down. But he did.

Instead of the dark patterns he’d seen his entire life, or even the open wound like he’d seen before in the diner, he saw the pink of new skin in raised ridges and divots. Scars.

He closed his eyes again around a full-bodied shudder. He didn’t open his eyes again, but he did refocus his ears to the conversations around him. Derek was saying he needed help. Scott was asking if they should call an ambulance. And Isaac was getting angry, saying he was fine and that it was just to get attention.

“Come on, man,” he heard Scott say. “You know my mom told us we had to be nicer.”

“Whatever,” was Isaac’s reply. “She only said that because Derek’s mom told her to.”

Derek must have taken offense to that because he jumped in with a “Hey.” It sounded like a reprimand.

“Oh, come on!” Isaac complained. “Dude, he’s fine. Right? Right, Stiles? Tell them you’re fine.” He felt Isaac step closer, too close, but the other boy seemed to be smart enough not to touch him. “See? There’s nothing wrong with him. You were faking it, weren’t you?”

And Isaac sounded angry then. “Tell them you were faking it. God, nothing ever changes with you. Always trying to get people to pay attention to you. Poor little Stiles, he has no friends because he’s so weird no one wants to be around him. Well, that’s not my fault that he’s a freak! And we don’t have to get him to play video games with us just because your mom wants us to.”

“Isaac, come on. You need to calm down,” Derek tried to distract him, but Isaac was on a roll, and Stiles could feel the waves of hostility pouring off the other kid. 

“No!” he shouted back. “I’m so sick of everyone asking me about Stiles. Who gives a shit? No one. Remember when no one cared? God! Let’s go back to that. What do you say, Stiles? How about we get dad to send you away again, huh? It wouldn’t take much. A couple more fires around here and it’s ‘see you later, Stiles’! How does that sound?”

And just like it had happened earlier in the garage, Stiles felt everything around him just stop. Even the ambient noises ground down to a halt as the whole world seemed to take a beat. He felt the energy from before building up inside, and his eyes shot open.

He straightened up and turned around slowly until he was facing Isaac.

“His eyes,” he heard Scott whisper. He didn’t know what they were seeing but whatever it was, it was strange enough to have Isaac’s expression morph into one of shocked apprehension.

Derek tried to pull Isaac back towards the living room, but Stiles wasn’t going to let that happen. He grabbed the boy by the throat and instantly saw flashes of memories again.

But they weren’t his memories. They were Isaac’s. He saw what the other boy saw and felt what he felt. He could feel the terror, but he pushed the thought away and dug deeper.

He watched himself with his mom, and felt jealousy. He watched himself be comforted after the funeral. More Jealousy. He watched his tiny hands, Isaac’s tiny hands hold a lighter to his pillow until the whole thing was on fire. He heard him blaming Stiles when his dad asked what happened.

Distantly, outside of the bubble of memories he and Isaac are trapped in, he could hear Scott yelling about calling the sheriff. He sounded frantic. Stiles didn’t care.

“What did you do?” He hissed. Isaac looked truly scared then. Too scared to respond. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he roared at him, swinging him around and pinning the boy to the wall.

Derek and Scott tried to intervene, one of them even getting a hand on Stiles shoulder. The same shoulder that the cold woman had gripped as she’d led him down the long hallway at Eichen. He’s aware of them being flung away and hitting the furniture behind him, but he hadn’t made a conscious effort to do it.

“Your… fault…” Isaac choked out. And Stiles lost control.

The only thing, _the only thing_ he felt after that was revelry. He took pleasure in seeing the blood come out of Isaac’s face at the punches. He enjoyed the cries of pain from the boy as he broke bones. He smiled, when he watched him struggle to get up and take a swing at Stiles when he backed off to stalk around him. He laughed when Isaac cried out to Derek and Scott to help him.

By the time he heard sirens, he was on top of Isaac’s chest, punching his face over and over, delighted to find out how much blood he could get out of him before the boy passed out.

* * *

Jordan ran to the Stilinski house in somewhat of a haze. He could feel the branches and leaves slapping across his face, but it wasn’t important. The only thing he needed to know was that Stiles had gone nuclear. Whatever happened, it had been painful. And then the rage took over.

As he got closer to the house, he started to come back to full, coherent thoughts. The first thing he though of was Steve, back at the Hale house, asking if the sensations from Stiles had felt dark. He’d said he didn’t know.

But it was the only thing it felt like now.

When he slammed through the back door, the first thing he laid eyes on was Stiles sitting over a boy, Isaac. He was hurting him. The second thing he saw was the sheriff rushing in towards them, going for Stiles and yelling at him to stop.

He darted forward, ripping Stiles away before anyone else could.

He held him by the arms, trying to get Stiles’ attention refocused on him, noting all the while that the boy’s eyes were pitch black. “Stiles!” he shouted, shaking him a little. “Stiles, look at me!”

He watched as Stiles’ eyes flickered between black to a bright glow for a moment before settling back on their normal hue when the boy seemed to come back to himself a little. And of course, the reaction to their proximity wasn’t one of welcome. He struggled against the hold, still not entirely present, but Jordan held on and steadied him, forcing him to look up and see it was him.

Jordan’s eyes were glowing hellfire. He knew it, and he saw the moment Stiles noticed. Like all his strings had been cut, Stiles slumped forward resting his forehead on Jordan’s chest.

Noah didn’t understand what was happening, Jordan could hear him questioning the boys. He could also hear as the rest of the Hales showed up and came in the front door. He turned them so his back was to the door, shielding the kid from the others. 

Stiles moved his arm up, not pushing away exactly, but out to the side enough so that Jordan could see ugly mess of raw scars.

The gasp and the, “Oh my god,” that Jordan could hear behind him let him know that the others could see it too.

When Marcus took stock of the room, seeing enough evidence to tell him how things had played out, he turned to his son, and in a colder tone than he’d ever used on one of his children, he told him to, “Go home, Derek. Now.”

And that was the final cue Stiles needed to break down completely. The wail that came out of him was unexpected, and entirely heart wrenching to every adult in the room. It was a broken sound. The kind an animal would make when it knew there was no hope. No respite in sight. 

It was the first time Stiles had let himself _feel_ after Eichen House, and nine years of pain ripped through him and made itself known to anyone close enough to hear the screams.

Jordan held him through all of it; he was the only thing keeping him off the ground.

Noah had gravitated over to Scott and Isaac, who had already started healing from the assault. When Scott started telling him what he’d seen, what had happened, Talia moved closer to listen.

Noah looked like he was at a loss as to what he should do. “We can get him some help again. It worked before, maybe it wasn’t enough, I just don’t know,” he said, looking over at Talia.

“Try it. They’d never find your body.” Peter promised, restrained loathing pouring out of him.

He walked slowly over to check on Stiles as the screams turned into sobs and whimpers, noticing the protective hold the hellhound still had on him, and pausing as he received a low growl at the nearness.

He didn’t take offense to it; he would do the exact same thing in Jordan’s place. “Take him to his room,” he quietly told the man. 

When he saw Stiles’ hand tighten his grip on Jordan’s shirt, he addressed the boy directly. “No, Stiles, I meant _your_ room. The treehouse.”

Stiles had stopped audibly crying, but it had been replaced with a blank, unseeing gaze, almost catatonic as his head turned to the side, still resting against Jordan.

When Noah moved to come towards him, Stiles didn’t visibly react, but a strong wave of energy slowly pushed Noah back until he fell down. It continued to slide him gradually across the room until he was against the far wall.

Peter helped Jordan and Stiles up the stairs, out the window, and into the treehouse. Cora followed. She hadn’t said a word the entire time they’d been there, but he could smell the tears and the frustration.

He was both surprised, and not at all surprised when he couldn’t enter. He looked down and let out an amused huff when saw the doormat, and understood immediately that Stiles’ latent abilities gave him enough to keep anyone out that he didn’t want in. Stiles wouldn’t have had access to any real power, but he did have a sort of passive defensiveness that had made it possible. He’d created a panic room. 

Jordan was allowed through, possibly because he was carrying him. And Cora followed in behind without resistance. Peter stood outside as the door closed behind them, listening as fabric was pushed around, and Stiles got settled in before turning back for the house. 

Inside the room, Jordan placed Stiles on his bed, under the covers, and draped the old quilt over him for good measure. Cora, still not saying a word, climbed onto the bed and sat on top of the covers over Stiles’ feet. She settled her back against the wall and let out a deep sigh before closing her eyes. 

The door had already been shut, but Jordan noticed Stiles was watching it, and turned back to check the locks. He pointed the reading chair towards the door, pulled out his gun and set it on the end table beside him when he sat down. “Get some sleep, kid. I’ll keep watch.”

Jordan may be a hellhound. But he also served in the Army and had plenty of friends with PTSD. Although, he thought it was sad that those skills were coming in handy with a seventeen-year-old boy. With Stiles. 

When Peter made it back downstairs, Marcus had joined his wife in checking Isaac over and talking to Noah. Steve had stayed on the edges of the group. Watching for now. 

Peter was beyond pissed and had no problems letting them know that. “What the hell happened?” He asked the boys on the ground.

Scott was the one who spoke up. “Stiles came downstairs, and we were just playing video games. He looked sick and Derek went to check on him, and then he attacked Isaac.”

Peter smiled unkindly at the kid. “And that’s all that happened? Stiles looked sick and then lost control?”

Scott frowned and quickly looked anywhere but at Peter. He looked uncomfortable with the focus of the alpha’s attention, movements going shaky. “I uh… I mean, Isaac might have said some things…”

Peter narrowed his eyes at the boy but shifted his gaze over to Isaac, pleased when he shrank back towards Noah. “What things?” he asked without a fraction of warmth.

Isaac didn’t answer.

Talia noticed the coiled tension rising in Peter the longer the young wolf remained silent. “Isaac,” she looked evenly at the boy. “Did you say something that might have upset Stiles?”

“Now, let’s just wait a minute…” Noah started.

But Isaac found whatever bit of courage he’d been missing and responded in a near shout, “No! I didn’t say anything, he just went crazy!”

Peter laughed. It was unsettling to the other alphas, how malicious and threatening his reactions towards the boys had been, but it served its purpose. They looked frightened.

“Kid, you haven’t been a wolf for longer than two weeks,” Peter smirked down at him. “So, I doubt you’ve had time to learn about listening to heartbeats. Wolves can literally _hear_ when someone’s lying. And do you know what I just heard…”

Scott stepped in front of Isaac, blocking Peter’s line of sight. It was brave of him. Brave and very, very foolish. Peter wasn’t planning on ignoring Scott’s part in whatever happened, and the boy gulped when blue eyes bled red, and Peter growled at him.

“Scott.” He saw the boy flinch at the rumble of his voice. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth like a good beta. Tell me what you did to him, or I’ll find out for myself.”

It was the sight of the claws coming out on Peter’s hand that had Noah getting up and trying to shield the boys. It also had Talia and Marcus stepping closer to Peter.

His control was impeccable, they knew that. His morality was a bit more flexible though. And his willingness to keep his wolf at bay when he perceived someone as a threat to him or his love ones was occasionally nonexistent. 

It was why he was so suited to his position in the pack. Peter would stop at nothing, not even his own safety, if it meant protecting his family.

After the claws came out, and the red eyes glared at the trio, the yelling started. Noah was protective of the boys, accusing the Hales of overstepping and threatening to force Peter back if he didn’t leave right then.

Scott was offended at his friend being suspected of lying, saying he didn’t care about the alpha eyes, they couldn’t make them do anything, “We don’t even need you!” He shouted. “You’re just trying to scare us into saying you’re our alpha, and you’re not! We don’t need an alpha!”

Peter turned to Isaac, who was still on the ground huddled into himself like any good victim, though his injuries had healed by then.

“You know, something’s been bothering me about this whole dynamic here,” he waved a clawed hand to the three of them, speaking conversationally. “I’ve watched you with Isaac, Noah. But I’ve never seen you interact with Stiles. And look what just happened. Your son had a breakdown in this very room not ten minutes ago. He was carried out of here in tears… And you haven’t asked me once about how he’s doing.”

Talia got nervous. Peter only started talking when he had a plan. When he knew there was nothing that could stop his actions. It was closer to taunting than anything else. She’d once morbidly called it ‘playing with his food.’

“No…” Peter sneered at the man. “Instead, you’re standing guard over the boy who caused it. And something tells me this isn’t the first time. Why did you say you sent Stiles to Eichen House again?”

Noah was still on edge, not trusting in Peter’s supposed calmness. “He was out of control,” he answered gruffly. “He was starting fires in the house.”

“Ah yes,” Peter grinned. “The fires. Isaac,” he called, pursing his lips when the boy hid a little more behind Noah’s legs. “Who set those fires?” He asked, appearing for the room as though it was a harmless question. 

“I already told you, Stiles did that,” Noah asserted.

“Yes, yes. I know what you believe. I’m asking Isaac now.” Peter nodded over to Noah, dismissing him like he was another child in the situation.

Steve had been watching the entire thing play out from a corner by the door. And he wasn’t impressed by Stiles’ family in any way. The wolves may be able to hear lies, but Steve could feel the energies faster. He knew what Peter was getting at, and the energy flowing from the boy in question was one drenched in inner turmoil, fear, and deceit.

Short of setting those fires by hand, Stiles couldn’t have done it. Elves might have defensive capabilities before they came into their power, all fae did, but not offensive. And setting a fire for no reason, even if he was experiencing extreme emotional grief, was offensive.

And Stiles had never struck Steve as having been the type of child who would have been that destructive. 

Isaac on the other hand seemed very reluctant to answer the question. When he finally did, he dropped his head and whispered in a voice that sounded like a small child that, “Stiles did.”

Peter went apoplectic. He snarled at the boy, jumping forward. It was only the fact that Talia and Marcus were so close, that they were able to grab onto him and back him away.

Talia knew her brother. Even without Peter ‘giving’ Stiles a house, and the interest he’d shown so far, she would know just by looking at him that Peter cared deeply for Stiles. 

It only turns to murder when there’s a loved one involved. 

And the way Peter was looking at Isaac in that moment was nothing short of a promise of a gruesome, bloody death.

He was looking at Isaac the same way he’d looked at Kate all those years ago. And she knew with sinking clarity that there was no way they could integrate the boys into the Hale pack after that night.

And with the alpha pack on their way, she needed to get control of the situation and prepared for the bigger threat.

Isaac had started to cry at the sight of Peter lunging for him. And he’d started to ramble defensively to the others. “Stiles is the dangerous one!” he yelled. “You saw what he did to me. He tried to kill me. And he threw dad across the room. He tried to hurt him!”

Marcus was holding onto Peter’s arm, securing him close to his chest incase his brother-in-law made another break for the boy. “That’s not what I saw at all,” he answered.

Having finally heard enough, Steve decided to step into the conversation. He explained simply to the room that the way Stiles was now, he had the ability to do a lot more damage. “All things considered, Stiles was _gentle_ in the way he moved Noah. It would have been much easier for him to have ‘thrown him into a wall.’ It shows an _immense_ amount of control.”

Noah jumped on that immediately. “What do you mean ‘the way Stiles is now’? Is there another werewolf? Did he get bitten too?”

Peter rolled his eyes and adds that if Stiles had been out of control, he would’ve ripped Isaac limb from limb before anyone could stop him. “You had him sent to hell,” he spat at him. “And now we all know that. Which means that between me and the hellhound up there, you’ve got two people in this world that will be happy to take you out of it.”

“Three.” Marcus added still not letting go of Peter. 

Steve smiled from the edges of the room. “Make that four.”

Peter laughed at that and sent Isaac the most manic grin of the evening.

Talia was _having none of it._ “Enough!” she shouted over the protestations starting up from the sheriff and the boys. “No one’s murdering a teenager tonight!” It’s why she’s the alpha of their pack.

“What does that mean about Stiles, what are you saying?” Noah asked.

Peter scoffed, 100% done with the sheriff. “It means your little sociopath of a _son _there, blamed Stiles for the fires that _he_ set. Isn’t that right, Isaac? And remember, we’ll hear it if you try to lie.”

“It was an accident!” Isaac shouted, and the tears were back. Oh good, Peter had missed those.

Noah looked down at the boy, shock and denial on his face. “Isaac, there were a lot of fires, kiddo.”

“It was an accident! And then you were so mad,” Isaac sobbed. “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

Noah closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face, sighing out. “Isaac, I asked you though. You said you saw Stiles setting the fires.”

And that sent Isaac disintegrating into a full-on hysterical mess. “I know,” he said when he could catch his breath. “I’m sorry!” 

Noah hadn’t moved away, but neither did he reach down and comfort him. He just stood, frozen where he was, shaking his head like that would make it all go away. “But why?” he asked.

“I’m sorry!” Isaac repeated, sobbing. “He didn’t like me. And you were really nice. And I didn’t want you to send me away.”

Talia looked at the boy with sympathy and sadness. She couldn’t have him in her pack after this, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel sorry for him. Still, she had to know, “Isaac,” she asked gently, getting his attention. “Did you blame Stiles for the fires on purpose.”

He sniffled a little, trying to wipe away his tears and unable to look her in the eye. “I don’t know.”

It was a lie.

Marcus had to physically remove Peter from the room after that.

Noah was beside himself. He couldn’t hear heartbeats like the wolves. But he knew by the tone of Isaac’s voice that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. When the boy fell into another round of crying, Scott scooted by his legs and huddled up close to him, trying to comfort his friend.

Talia shook her head at the whole mess. Disappointment would be too light of a word to describe how she felt. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the thumb drive Marcus had stored the videos on. Handing it to Noah, she told him, “This will probably be difficult for you to watch. This is what sending Stiles to Eichen House did to him.” She tells him that she is going to call Satomi, he can take the boys there.

“You can’t be in this territory right now.” She explained. “Not with the alphas coming. They’ll find the boys and kill them, and you probably.”

Despite being shell shocked from the evening’s events, Noah was adamantly against the idea. “I can’t just leave,” he told her. “You can’t force me to leave my home. You don’t have the right!”

She didn’t try to placate him with excuses or justifications. And she sent him a cold stare at his outrage. “I imagine that might be similar to how Stiles was feeling when you had him committed.”

Steven, his eyes glowing the same way Stiles’ had earlier, turned to address Talia. “Let him stay,” he told her before glaring at Noah. “You’re the sheriff of Beacon County, and your _son_ is a recently turned werewolf. You’d make an irresistible target.” A cruel smirk broke out over his face. “When they get here, they’ll kill you first.” 


	12. Chapter 12

The call Talia made to Satomi had fortuitous timing, just not necessarily for the Hales.

Getting Noah and the boys to leave the house wasn’t the easiest experience the alpha had ever dealt with, but it wasn’t the hardest either. That could have something to do with the fact that Peter was still growling in the kitchen. Marcus had a handle on the situation, but until Isaac or Peter were removed from the house, she didn’t think the deep bass rumbling was going to stop.

And Peter had no intention of being away from Stiles.

It was their house, that was true. And she was kind of _kicking them out _of it. But she asked that Noah consider what had been revealed that night, and to also consider that Stiles might need some time before he faced them again.

She could tell just by the resigned and accepting drop of his shoulders that he knew it was the right thing to do. Altogether, what Talia was asking was not unlike the way police handled a domestic disturbance.

Typically, the involved parties would be separated, and the police would ask one of them if they had anywhere else they could stay for the night. That was what she was asking of him. She was just choosing that ‘other’ place.

But when she called Satomi, plans had to change.

She still got Noah and Isaac out of the house, but instead of heading to the next town over, they were headed to the McCall residence.

The Ito pack was under attack.

Marcus kept Peter in the kitchen downstairs while Noah packed a duffle, but the growling had stopped when Talia came to tell them about the situation.

The alpha pack hadn’t just been taking their time getting to Beacon Hills, they were already nearby. Instead of an all out war on Hale land, they had been picking off the Ito pack for the last twenty four hours. Three had gone missing that morning, and two were already recovered. Dead.

There was no way that the Hales could leave their friend to that kind of assault. They had to go.

The problem there, was that at least three people in the house would want to stay with him, and the Ito pack was going to need that support more. It was an awful thing to have to decide.

Peter had been right when he’d told her that Cora had already decided Stiles was more or less a Hale. If she focused on it, she could feel that Stiles was a good fit with them, despite never having spoken to the boy herself. And when a member of the pack was hurting, staying close was a strong instinct.

“Jordan will stay,” Peter muttered out before she could ask, fangs still very much present. “Just let me stay tonight.”

“Peter…”

“Just tonight, Talia.” His head was down on his chest. He knew splitting up wasn’t the best idea, and she could see that he hated asking, but she knew he’d been running on instinct before they even got there that evening.

She nodded, and didn’t insult him by pointing out that the Ito pack was the bigger need at that precise moment. He didn’t have to be told that Stiles might not even want to see him. If getting the boy through the night would appease his enraged wolf, she would do it gladly.

“Call Derek,” she told Marcus. “Have him grab the bags from the basement and meet us back here.”

She walked back to the front of the house where Steve was standing in the foyer, waiting to see Noah and the boys out when they came back down. He told her that he’d stay with Peter overnight, and that he would be happy to come with him in the morning.

“The threat of the alpha pack is too close to Beacon Hills. And this is my home too,” he explained when she sent him look of surprise at the offer. “Besides, I can promise you, alphas aren’t the only thing they brought with them.”

It was too late to be tired. Too late to wish it wasn’t happening. She had a fight to prepare for. But she also had a territory to protect. Laura was the best option to leave in charge.

God forbid the fight go poorly for them, her heir would be in Beacon Hills, ready to lead if she fell. She hadn’t spent nearly enough time preparing Laura for that role, and prayed that if it did happen, either Marcus or Peter survived to guide her daughter until she was ready.

* * *

Peter had never actually met a hellhound before. Oh, he’d met Jordan and knew there was something up there, but he’d only known he was fae, like Steve.

Hellhounds were terrifying creatures. At least, everything Peter had ever read pointed to that. They could be more animal in battle than even a wolf. And if the stories were true, their _energy_ was made up of literal hellfire.

They were death to human and supernatural alike. Which meant Jordan was the perfect guardian Peter could imagine watching over Stiles if he couldn’t do it himself.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew his interest in the young elf was going to force him to set his sights on a long road to success. But he was confident it would get there. Stiles was damaged. Anyone with eyes could see that. Steve had called him delicate, and that was no less true now than it was five hours ago.

But delicate or not, Stiles was also capable of getting to the other side of his past. He’d let Cora in. Truly. And he’d spent an afternoon laughing and joking with Peter. It was all he needed to know that Stiles was _capable_.

Besides, he kind of liked the idea of a slow courtship.

When Derek returned to the house, Peter had just been allowed out of the kitchen a few minutes prior. And that was only because Noah and the boys had vacated the premises. He’d grumbled to Marcus that he was _fine_ after Talia had told them about the Ito pack, but his brother-in-law had simply raised a single brow in response. Peter sometimes hated that they knew him so well.

His nephew dropped four duffels in the living room and when Talia started to question why there weren’t only three, Derek cut her off.

“I’m going with you.”

“Derek, you can stay here with Laura,” Talia told him carefully, noting the scowl and tension that hadn’t been there before. “You can keep everyone here safe, you don’t need to go.”

“I’m going.” And that time, the young man’s tone held a note of finality to it.

Peter understood his need for distance. There was something going on with the whole situation of Derek and Stiles’ soul mark. Something he couldn’t see just yet. If Peter was a better man, he would feel bad for wanting to pursue Stiles, knowing that he and Derek were soulmates.

But evidence or not, Peter felt drawn to the boy. He thought back to Steve telling him what he _saw_ as a possibility for Peter and Stiles. And, while he felt bad about the fact that Derek’s soul mark was fading, he still didn’t feel bad about wanting the new elf for his own.

Still, if Derek wanted to put miles between himself and the situation, he understood that and wouldn’t protest him coming along.

Marcus joined Peter as he made his way up to Stiles’ room, the actual room in the house, not the one outside. Neither man had been in there before, but they took in what Cora had told Peter about it immediately.

There was barely any scent for them to pick up outside of the desk and the closet. Stiles hadn’t used the bed in so long, that it felt like a guest room to Peter when he set his bag down on it.

“You’re sleeping in here?” Marcus asked.

Peter tilted his head, looking at the nearly empty bookshelf. “I wouldn’t be able to stand being further right now.”

That got a nod of agreement, although neither of them smiled. Things had come to a head with Stiles, and that was good. It meant he could start moving past it. But neither men believed it was going to be easy. Peter wanted to stay close, but whether or not he was _wanted _there was a question they probably wouldn’t get that night.

“Steve’s downstairs on the couch. He’s staying too.” Marcus had moved back to the doorway, and Peter knew they would need to head out soon. It was already night, the sun having gone down hours before. The Hales were expected and needed at Satomi’s.

Steve was actually leaving when the men made it back downstairs. “Just heading out to get some of my own things,” he told them, gesturing to the three black duffels Talia was rifling through.

They were more like go-bags than anything. If one of them needed to be somewhere else with very little, or no notice. The bags held a few days of fresh clothes and toiletries for them.

Peter nodded back at his friend. He would be fine holding down the fort by himself, and Talia really did need to get going.

She and Marcus took the car they’d all come in. But Steve had his own truck, and Derek’s car had already been there. He was leaving it in case Peter needed to get somewhere while Steve was gone.

Sure, Isaac’s dirt bike was out front. But Peter was more likely to rip it to pieces before he would use it as a viable mode of transportation. 

By the time Steve got back, Peter had raided the Stilinski kitchen and had been able to put a halfway decent meal together for them. He didn’t think the others would come back down that night, but he wanted to have something for them to eat if they did.

Walking back into the living room where Steve was setting some pillows and blankets up on the couch, Peter handed him the bowl of pasta he’d made and snorted at the three bags the man had brought for himself.

“You know, I never pictured you as the diva of the group. Did you pack a whole bag for your beard cream?”

“My beard is glorious. And shut up, no.” Steve groused back.

Talia and the others might look at Steve and see a regal sort of _power_. And Peter saw that too, but he also saw his friend. They’d been close since Peter was a teenager, and he’d seen the younger version of himself through enough of his own trials to be more than comfortable with each other.

“Of course it is,” he grinned. Steve set the bowl down and went back to the bags, pulling out a very familiar sketchpad.

“I wanted him to have something to keep occupied if he snaps back out of it.” He cared for Stiles. Almost like a father would care for a son, and Peter huffed a silent laugh at the irony of it all.

Steve had put in a veritable gift basket of drawing supplies in the bag along with the sketchpad, not knowing what Stiles might have available at the house. It was touching.

Speaking of touching, Peter reared back when the man warned him against touching the other bag. “You probably shouldn’t get too close to that one. It’ll go in the trunk when we head out in the morning.”

They were taking Derek’s car, and leaving Steve’s truck for the others. It wasn’t so much about having an escape, though there was that to consider. But they didn’t like the idea of Jordan, Stiles, and Cora being without a vehicle. And there was no doubt in Peter’s mind that Cora was staying through the weekend.

As suspected, the night was uneventful. And there had been no real movement from the treehouse. At least, not enough to disturb Peter, who’d fell into a light doze with the window open until the next morning.

When he got up and back down the stairs, he decided it was probably Steve being up and moving around that woke him. He was thankful to see coffee already made, and opened the cabinets to get started on breakfast.

He heard footsteps upstairs and smiled at the picture in his mind of having a nice morning while the _household_ woke up around him. But he came out of it quickly. This wasn’t that. And he had to get up to Ito territory soon.

* * *

Jordan was certain Stiles had slept, only because he had looked over at one point and saw the two teenagers passed out on the bed. Cora had slumped sideways after a few hours and sleepily pulled the edge of the quilt over herself while using Stiles’ hip as a pillow.

It had made him smile. He’d spent the last two years working Stiles up to prolonged human contact, and he didn’t begrudge Cora in the least for benefiting from the fruits of his labors.

Stiles had shifted onto his back in his sleep, and curled somewhat around Cora’s head. The sight of the two of them reminded Jordan of a pair of puppies sacked out after a long day.

He didn’t watch them long, only because Stiles woke up a few minutes later. He rubbed his eyes and laid there, looking up at the ceiling, nothing of the turmoil from the previous day showing on his face.

When he finally looked over at Jordan, he eyed him for a minute and simply said, “Bathroom.”

Cora grumbled about being jostled but rolled herself, literally rolled, out of bed after him. Jordan led them back into the house, seeing the bedcovers in the room mussed from whoever’d slept there the night before. A quick sniff and he could tell it’d been Peter.

There was someone else in the house though, and Jordan was still on high alert despite the early morning hour. Reaching out his senses, he was relieved to find it was Steve on the floor below them.

Stiles left him in the room, walking on auto pilot to the bathroom. But Jordan was happy to hear the sound of the shower turning on after the toilet flushed. He honestly hadn’t thought Stiles would have that level of awareness or activity so soon.

Cora left to go downstairs and greet her uncle, or more likely to find a different bathroom, while Jordan looked through the dresser and closet in the room for some clean clothes for Stiles. He might be up to a shower, but he didn’t think the boy would want to go anywhere so he settled on some sweats and a tee-shirt.

He set them on the desk chair, positioning it where Stiles would see when he came back, and went to join the others and take care of his own morning routine.

After hearing Stiles was finishing up and getting dressed, Jordan came back up and helped him through the window again. Cora quickly joined them, grabbing Stiles’ laptop on her way out.

Stiles wasn’t really talking much, but he didn’t protest Cora joining him on his bed and declaring they could spend the day watching movies. But he thought he saw a tiny quirk of a smile when she announced it was, “perfect for an X-men marathon!”

Even so, when Stiles crawled back in his nest of covers and put his head on the pillow, his eyes drooped in exhaustion and Jordan wasn’t sure he’d be awake much longer. Which was when there was a knock at the door.

He’d already talked to Peter downstairs and knew the man would be checking in, so he turned to Stiles and asked, “Do you want to see Peter?”

Stiles didn’t outwardly react beyond focusing on the door, and Jordan took that to mean they could try.

Peter had plated up three breakfasts in to-go containers and made three travel mugs of coffee. It been fun working his way out of the window with his bounty, all while wearing a backpack of art supplies on his shoulders, and he was grateful when Jordan met him at the door to relieve him of the load.

He took a breath and stepped forward, and breathed out a sigh of relief when he was able to cross the threshold. Cora was sitting up, bright-eyed on the bed with the laptop in front of her, and Jordan was turned to the bookshelf setting the food down on top.

“We need to get you a little table in here,” he said to Stiles as he walked a few steps closer. No reaction. But Peter hadn’t been expecting one.

He slid the bag off his arm and set it beside the bed before crouching down in front of the pillow.

“There’s so much I need to tell you,” he said quietly, and a little forlornly. “You’ve been dropped headfirst into this world of magic and fae and werewolves, and I want nothing more than to stay here with you and explain everything. Answer any questions you have. But some bad people have been causing trouble for our friends, so Steve and I need to help my family and make sure they come through it.”

It was probably more than Stiles knew what to do with just then, but he knew that his boy was smart. So smart. And Stiles’ mind wouldn’t be inactive for long.

If he was already up and partaking in things like personal hygiene, Peter knew he was going to get through the burning of the soul bond, and the awakening of his fae blood.

According to the talk Peter had in the kitchen with Steve that morning, the fact that Stiles had sought out comfort from Jordan, and that he allowed Cora so close that first night, was leaning away from a ‘dark fae’ rather that towards it.

Jordan could help guide Stiles through the first few days of this, but Peter _hated_ that he, himself had to leave so soon after the transition. And he hated that he was taking Steve with him.

“I’m leaving you with two of the best guard dogs around though. You’ve got Cora and Cerberus over there to give you some of the background until we get back.”

Jordan snorted at the reference, but otherwise gave them as much privacy as he could in the tiny room.

Peter smiled at his own joke anyway. “There’s food and coffee here. You don’t have to eat all of it, but it’ll probably be good to get something in your stomach.” He reached a hesitant hand up towards Stiles’ face, and when the boy didn’t flinch away, ran gentle fingers through the damp strands.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You just focus on you for now, and don’t let Cora railroad you into watching too many of her mutant movies. I never knew I’d be creating a monster when I gave her that first dvd…” 

He stood up, still sad to go, but _beyond thrilled_ that Stiles had let him close. He gave a quick kiss to the top of Cora’s head, and shared a look of mutual respect with Jordan before seeing himself out.

It took three days for him to make it back.

* * *

When Peter and Steve arrived in Ito territory a couple hours later, things were as tense as he’d imagined they’d be.

The alpha pack had, at some earlier point, defaced the front door of the main pack house with their calling card. Peter rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

The dead wolves on the other hand was a more serious statement. One that called for retribution. But they hadn’t been able to locate their basecamp yet, if they had one, and Peter wasn’t excited to be going into the fight on unknown land.

They’d been doing near-constant perimeter patrols around the main house and the surrounding forest since it started, and the Hales were happy to supplement that duty rotation.

Talia suggested a show of force, take the fight to them. The alpha pack only had four members and with the Hale and Ito pack combined, they had so much more. It was a plan they could all get behind, but the fact that they didn’t know where to find them was a huge obstacle.

Satomi mentioned the alphas’ emissary in one of the strategy sessions. Talia shared what she knew of Marin, and Peter gave them a recap of his run-in with the druid down south. She was showing more power than she should have alone. And Satomi’s own emissary, a young girl named Lindsey, wasn’t ready for it.

Their previous emissary, and Lindsey’s mentor had been killed two weeks ago. Not by a wolf though; the girl had felt the residue of magic at the scene. She could also feel the presence of more than one other druid on their territory, which Steve quickly confirmed after he’d arrived.

He’d taken Lindsey and his bag of goodies into the workshop the previous emissary had in the back of the house and sequestered the two of them away for a full day while he got the girl as ready as possible. She’d been star-struck with Steve at first, but impressed them all by swiftly setting that aside and buckling down. 

On Peter’s second day there, Cora had called to check in with Talia and ask for an excused absence from school.

While Talia got on the phone with the administration, and then with Noah to request the same for Stiles, Marcus and Derek took their turn on patrol.

Marcus hadn’t been pleased when he’d found his son embroiled in the chaos at the Stilinski house, and Talia had told him about the soul marks as soon as she’d found out.

Perhaps if Derek had known, it would’ve gone differently. But he’d been scarce around the house after he’d gone down to the station that first time.

Still, he knew he’d need his son’s viewpoint before passing judgment. And with everything happening, he hadn’t had the time to sit down and talk, just the two of them. So, the patrol worked out well in that regard.

Derek was sorry. It was the first thing he’d said after they were a fair distance from the house and Marcus hadn’t said anything. He knew his son was smart enough to know that they’d need to talk about it, and was happy he’d decided to take the initiative.

“I just don’t even know what to think about it all yet. I had no idea that he was…” Derek trailed off, shaking his head.

“Did you feel anything?” He asked Derek. “You wouldn’t have formed a bond, not yet. But when you looked at him, was there any interest?”

“Honestly? No. I forgot his face as soon as I wasn’t around him.” He looked pensive for a moment, then asked quietly, “That’s not normal is it?”

Marcus felt pity looking at Derek. This was his chance for a soulmate, like he had with Talia. And regardless of how things might shake out in the future, that was gone now. He told Derek that no, it wasn’t normal, but it happened sometimes.

“I don’t think it’s hit you yet,” he said. “And it probably wont until the mark on your arm is gone.” It was already fading when Derek pushed up his sleeve so the two of them could see it.

He was about to tell his son that they’d get him through it when a bullet tore through Derek’s shoulder, dropping him to the ground. Marcus quickly dropped next to him and pulled him behind a large boulder. Pushing the shirt aside and seeing the wound, he could smell wolfsbane. He immediately clawed his way into his shoulder to dig the bullet out and let out a howl to alert the others.

There was a huge gust of wind as he did, ripping through the trees and settling around their hiding place. The bullet had done its job though, and he could see the tell-tale black spiderwebs spreading out across Derek’s skin as he picked up the sound of footsteps getting closer.

Derek had a look of recognition on his face, going from happy relief to abject horror in an instant.

Walking out of the trees towards them were the female alpha, Kali and the young deputy Derek had taken an interest in lately. She was holding a rifle, and Marcus would bet money it was the same one that had just shot his son. He was outraged at the audacity.

He didn’t have time for that though. Following closely following behind them was Marin, arms outstretched and calling the storm to gather in the trees.

And suddenly, things connected in Marcus’ brain. When Derek had told them about the deputy, Braeden, he’d done a bit of a background check. Obviously. How anyone would think he _wouldn’t_ was beyond him.

But he hadn’t found anything before the last few years that she’d been in Beacon Hills. No high school or college transcripts, no work history, no prior residence. Nothing. She had a name, a birth certificate from Ventura county, a current address, and a SSN on file in the department. But that was it.

He didn’t know for sure they were related, but he’d always known Marin had a child. Alan had mentioned once, years ago, that he was an uncle. It had only been once, but Marcus had stored that little fact away in the mental dossier he kept of the man. And Alan was Marin’s brother.

It was all starting to piece together when Kali let out a snarl and charged forward. Marcus was up in an instant, colliding with her and fighting her back from Derek.

He snarled and roared, knowing he was leaving Derek unprotected from the deputy but not able to break away from the fight with Kali.

Until a beautiful, wonderful sound reached his ears.

Peter reached them first, not bothering with stealth, and crashing through the trees like an infuriated berserker. Marcus could feel the air disperse behind him as Peter flew past, landing on Braeden with a bloodthirsty snarl as she was lifting the rifle to Derek for a second, and undoubtably fatal shot.

He swept a clawed hand down and slashed her throat open, unleashing a satisfied growl of victory as blood coated his face before letting the girl drop to the ground.

Marin, who was focused on the fight between Marcus and Kali, screamed at the action and turned to set all of her attention on Peter and Derek.

Kali knew what was happening, Marcus could see her eyes flicker out over the scene before recommitting herself to the fight. She’d gotten a few good swipes in, but then, so had he.

What she didn’t see, and neither apparently had Marin, was Steve coming out of the shadows of the tall trees, bright silver dagger in his hand. Marin had been gathering energy around her, protected from Peter by a circle of mountain ash as she worked.

They could all feel the pressure in the air building steadily, becoming oppressive. Marin shouldn’t have had that much power, and if Peter could focus on anything but survival in that moment, he would’ve been curious where she got it. As it was, the pressure was starting to pound on his eardrums.

But suddenly, it released. Peter had to catch himself from stumbling forward as Marin, with a look of utter perplexity, looked down at her chest. 

Shining silver and glinted with blood, was the tip of the dagger Steve was still holding in her back. His eyes were glowing brightly, almost pure white as he grabbed her throat, pulling her in closer to his body, whispering something in her ear.

Peter couldn’t hear what was being said after an angry roar from Kali drew his attention. He didn’t spare the dying druid another thought as he moved to flank Marcus with Kali.

She seemed to understand the tide had turned in the battle and tried to run. Marcus took her to the ground almost as soon as she did, tearing through her back to pull out her heart, and howling in triumph before rushing back to Derek.

The veins were thick and dark on his shoulder, way too close to his heart for comfort. He scrambled to the fallen rifle, still attached to the dead deputy, and got a bullet free of the magazine as soon as Peter handed over a lighter and got himself in position to hold Derek down.

As they burned the wolfsbane from the wound, Peter looked up and caught sight of Steve in the background. The man was using his bare hands to tear the heads off the bodies of the three women.

A little more grotesque than Peter would have imagined from his friend, but he could get behind that.

They got Derek on his feet, the Hale alphas on either side of him, and started to make their way back to the Ito pack den after watching Steve set a controlled fire, burning the corpses.

Once there, they discovered they hadn’t been the only ones to face their enemies that day. As soon as Peter and Steve had taken off through the forest, the rest of the alphas had descended on the Ito pack.

Like Talia had said before, they were vastly outnumbered. Lindsey had been immediately engaged with Alan, who’d slithered his way out of hiding behind Deucalion. She held her own, but was waning by the end.

The two remaining alphas, the twins, had merged their bodies to one giant alpha. It was impressive, but ultimately a mistake to present a singular threat for both Talia and Satomi to attack.

As the women tore them to pieces, literally, Deucalion had retreated. He’d gathered Alan after him and the ex-Hale emissary cleared a safe path for their escape.

It was a victory for the two packs, but the feeling of unfinished business permeated the air. They spent the night and the next day scouring the town for the two of them. And while they found the missing beta, a young man named Brett, they couldn’t get a trace on the remaining alpha or his druid.

When Steve spent a moment _feeling_ and _seeing_ what he could, he finally determined that they were miles away. Like, hundreds of miles.

It settled Peter somewhat, who’d been itching to get back to Stiles and fearing the two menaces would be heading their way. But Steve told him no, they’d gone north. 

Still, by the time the sun was setting on the third day, Peter and Steve were taking Derek’s car and making their way back home.

Steve had offered his contact information to Lindsey, and let her know he’d be happy to teach her more when she was ready.

Talia and Marcus stayed behind with Derek to help the clean up and settling at Satomi’s request. Despite Steve’s assurances that the threat was well and truly gone, the older alpha asked that they stay a little longer to be sure. They were happy to do it.

When Peter made it back to the Stilinski house, he turned his nose up in disgust at the sight that greeted him in the kitchen. They’d been living on junk food and take out.

He commandeered Cora into going grocery shopping almost as soon as he and Steve put their bags down, now with fresh clothes, inside the front door. She was not amused.

During the car ride to the store, Peter smirked over at Cora and the book in her lap. He’d had time to stop in the Hale library when he’d stopped at the house and had grabbed the book on fae for Stiles. But the kid had been taking a nap when he’d arrived, and his niece had quickly snatched it out of his hands instead.

He was pleased with her initiative. They had several fae in Beacon Hills apparently, and if he was going to train her to be his second, something he’d decided a long time ago, she would need that information. 

Knowing they’d been eating like animals while he’d been gone, he set his course for the Whole Foods about a half hour away. It would be better food options, and it would give Cora time to read.

He stayed quiet for the most part, amused when she would mutter about something she’d found, but offering an answer when she had a question. He paid particular attention when she got to the section on Elves. 

“So, I don’t get it. Are they good or bad? Stiles isn’t evil, but this kinda makes them sound bad.” Cora asked him, looking up from her book.

Peter smiled at her. It was good she was learning about this. Good that she wanted to learn. His one word of caution to Talia about choosing Laura as her successor was that the girl was more carefree and lackadaisical about her studies. Whereas Cora soaked up information like a sponge. 

“A lot of them are benevolent and just living their lives, like us,” He answered. “But not all of them. And even the nice ones can put a werewolf in the ground faster than you can snap your fingers if they wanted to.”

And Peter knew that if Steve had wanted to, he could’ve done just that back in the forest. He didn’t need to take such a hands-on approach like he had, but Peter supposed that his friend had wanted the satisfaction as much as he had.

“They’re good allies to have, though,” he told her seriously. “Elves are mostly warriors, and they’re not the kind of person you want to be on the wrong side of in a fight. Think more Lord of the Rings and not Santa’s little helpers.”

“But didn’t they all leave for the Undying Lands?”

Peter stopped any complimentary train of thought he’d had going and gave his niece a look of utter disbelief. “This isn’t actually Middle Earth, Cora.”

She huffed out, absently waving a hand in his direction and not even looking up from the text. “Yeah I know, I’m just saying.”

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head in dismay at her youth before giving an exasperatedly fond smile at the whole situation and settling back in to focus the drive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of the comments and kudos! 
> 
> This chapter has a few more 'smaller scenes' than normal, so you'll see a few scene jumps. I hope you liked it! And more is on the way!


	13. Chapter 13

By the time the next weekend arrived, Peter knew they weren’t going to be able to stay in the Stilinski house forever. They’d gotten into a bit of a routine, putting their lives on hold for that week, Steve with the shop and Jordan with the station, and had been camped out in the house ever since.

Like he had for the first night, Peter moved into Stiles’ bedroom in the house, Cora and Stiles sacked out on his bed in the treehouse, and Jordan had found an old military-looking cot in the garage that he’d set up in there as well.

Steve declared the couch was more than sufficient for sleeping, and Peter was just happy that it meant his friend was closer to the kitchen to start them coffee in the mornings. Steve made the best coffee. But he wasn’t going to tell him that.

He and Steve left occasionally, they were the only ones who did that first week, to grab food or clothes, or just supplies for around the house. The Stilinski’s had been out of laundry detergent, and the kitchen needed a good cleaning.

They’d only been back since Wednesday, so they hadn’t left often. But by Sunday, both of the men had made a few trips back and forth.

On one of his trips out, primarily to grab clean clothes for Cora, Peter had picked up more books for the two teenagers in the house. They _devoured _them. Cora had given the book on fae over to Stiles when she and Peter had returned. And while he’d taken it back to the treehouse to read, Saturday afternoon saw him sitting at the kitchen table with a new book while Peter and Steve cooked lunch.

It was promising to all of them that Stiles willingly spent time around them outside the safety of the treehouse. Cora had let him know when he got back that Stiles had spent the entire three days in there, only coming out for the bathroom. If they hadn’t brought food into him, he wouldn’t have eaten.

But when that first weekend in the house rolled around, Talia came for a visit. It was early on a Sunday morning, Steve had just got up when she knocked on the door, but Peter heard the sound of her voice and joined them soon after. 

“Peter,” she greeted him when he made his way to the kitchen table, Steve handing him a cup of coffee. She looked sympathetic around her own cup. “Cora has to go back to school on Monday.”

He nodded in agreement. It was a reality he already knew, and had been meaning to talk to his niece about. “Stiles isn’t ready.”

While Stiles was moving forward with things, and coming out of his shell a bit more, he most likely wouldn’t be up for going to school. Especially not if he had to see Isaac and his friends there. He took a sip of the coffee, pleased it was just as good as normal, and told her that, “We can ask him if he wants to, but I seriously doubt it’ll be a yes.”

“I know,” she agreed, “Noah has already called into the school that Stiles has a case of mono. That should get him a couple weeks at least.”

She ignored the low rumble at her mention of the man and Steve came to join them at the table. “Peter, go start the food.”

Talia gave the table a smirk as her little brother got up to go do exactly as his friend ordered, attention redirected from his anger easily.

“You’re good with him,” she teased. Which had Peter hissing back that he wasn’t a toddler as he pulled the eggs out of the fridge. But it put a smile on her face, Steve’s too.

“I’ve been talking to Stiles a little about his options,” Steve told her, pushing a file on the table closer so she could open it. “It’s only been a few days, so I’ve kept it light for the most part. But he knows they’re there.”

Inside the file were several apartments for rent. Steve explained that he owned all of them, and had left the file on the table for Stiles to look over. They were all options for the kid if he wanted them. So far, despite knowing it was there, Stiles hadn’t looked through it yet.

Talia was impressed with the range of choices, there were houses in neighborhoods, houses set a little more remotely, and apartments in both established buildings as well as in the industrial sector. Some needed work, some came fully furnished.

“I was hoping to sit down with him and go over this by the end of next week,” he told her, gesturing to the print outs she was sifting through. “How much time do we have?”

“I’d say by the end of the week. Noah didn’t mention a date specifically,” and there was the low growl from Peter again, though he continued his work at the stove. “But I got the impression he was eager to come home.”

Cora came stumbling into the kitchen, pausing when she caught sight of her mom, but shuffling over a moment later to give her a hug. She poured herself into one of the chairs at the small table draping herself over the top for a few more minutes of shut-eye before the food was ready.

Jordan followed a few minutes after they heard the shower turn on upstairs and grinned at Cora’s sleepy form. “And that’s what happens when you decide to try and watch every single Harry Potter movie in one night.”

“Shuddup…” She muttered back, ignoring her mom’s admonishment for her rudeness. “You’re just bitter because Snape died.”

Jordan twisted his mouth in a displeased grimace before snorting and rolling his eyes when she groaned about it being “too early to explain it all again. Go read the books!”

She perked up a little when Steve got up to grab the orange juice and glasses for the table, shortly followed by Peter sliding a plate of cheesy scrambled eggs and sausages in front of her.

Talia had already eaten, but she wouldn’t say no to another breakfast, especially if Peter was cooking and happily settled into her own plate when he set one next to the stack of printouts.

It wasn’t much longer that Stiles came into the room fresh out of the shower, more awake than Cora had been.

Like Cora though, he paused at the sight of Talia in the kitchen. She smiled warmly at him and after Peter came over to direct him into the last open chair, he took his seat and tucked into his food.

She noticed that his eyes caught on the folder, and the quick glance he gave to Peter and Steve where they were taking their own meal over by the counters. There was a careful balance in the room, and she didn’t want to upset that, but she had come over for a reason.

They kept the conversation light during breakfast, but when Jordan got up to start cleaning the dishes, and Cora left for her own shower, Talia decided to do a little check in with Stiles. And the folder made a good prop.

“Have you given any thought to what comes next, Stiles?” His eyes immediately snapped to hers. Peter had mentioned in one of their discussions that he didn’t really make or maintain eye contact. It seemed to her that he’d gotten past that hesitance recently, because he clearly had no problem with it now.

“I’ve looked at the pictures in this stack, and some of them look nice,” she told him. “I’m sure everyone in this room would be happy if you wanted to stay with us, or you could stay here in you father’s home…” She caught the flinch. “Or you could have your own place. Do you want to go over these pages with me?”

Stiles watched her, looking for any sign of an ulterior motive. She knew more than him, he was aware of that. But it didn’t feel like she was trying to get one over on him. He’d had talks with Steve over the last couple days. Enough to know that things had changed, enough to know what he was now; what his mom had been.

Somehow, knowing that his mom had been like this, he felt happy for the change. Grateful in a way that he had a piece of her back. Steve had talked about her. A lot. And it was a thirst for knowledge about his mom that had him first asking questions, engaging in the conversation.

Steve had explained about the things he, himself could do, and while he wasn’t exactly sure Stiles’ own abilities would be different, he’d told him it would probably fall closer to the intuitive side like his mom.

So, when he looked at Talia, he reached out with his mind like Steve was teaching him to do. And while there was a whole basket of things that she knew, that he didn’t, he didn’t get the impression there was any deceit involved. “Okay,” he told her, Peter’s sigh of relief not going unnoticed. 

Peter had been trying not to walk on eggshells with Stiles, knowing he would hate that if someone did it to him, but he was still approaching things carefully with him. He wanted to be supportive, but he didn’t want to push.

He was so proud of Stiles for committing himself to moving forward, no matter how long that took. It showed strength of character as far as Peter was concerned, and he’d always suspected Stiles had more of that than most.

He knew that Talia was aware of his continued desire for Stiles to be able to build his own place on Hale land, but even if Stiles agreed to that, there was no way it would be ready in time. And time was not on their side. If Noah wanted to move back into his house by the next week, they needed to have a place for Stiles to go. 

The houses and apartments in established communities were quickly discarded as Stiles and Talia reviewed each listing. Peter smiled when the boy spent a lot of time going over one option much longer than he had the others. It was the open floorplan loft in an industrial district building. The whole structure had been a factory at one point, and Steve hadn’t actually gotten around to the massive construction project it would take to convert the place. But it had amenities already, and security in place.

Steve joined them, insisting Stiles look through all of the options before deciding. Adding that Talia was right, if Stiles wanted to stay with one of them, they would be more than happy to do that. But they also understood if he wanted his own space.

For the most part, at least. Jordan had picked up the printout of the loft, looked at the floorplan, and told Stiles there was enough room for him to have a bed instead of a cot. Stiles had looked up at the man in surprise, but ducked his head around a pleased smile.

The rest of them couldn’t hide their own smiles at his quietly subdued happiness. They could feel it shrouding around him and knew they’d made the right decision.

Steve took them to look at it, not mentioning a word about how it was the first time Stiles had left the house in a week. There was something about the ‘abandoned’ feel to the place that Stiles was instantly captivated by.

Cora too, and the two older Hales chuckled at her irritation when Talia told her that, no. She could not move out of the house at sixteen. Even if it was with Stiles.

Peter followed the two elves around the loft, overjoyed when Stiles brought up areas he could work on in his free time if he lived there. He was engaging in conversation without prompting and it was much more than he could have hoped for so soon after everything.

Steve laughed when Stiles initiated a discussion about remodeling the upstairs and told him that if he wanted to do that work himself, as his future landlord, they could negotiate a very reduced rent.

Speaking of Steve being a landlord, when they got back to the Stilinski house the subject came up again. Talia had driven her and Cora by the diner to pick up a pie for desert, since she was joining them for the evening. Peter got started on the meal while they waited for them. They had skipped lunch, so the food smelled enticing as Peter cooked, but Steve sat Stiles back down at the table.

“Do you remember how Annie’s brother-in-law rent’s an apartment from me?”

Of course Stiles did, it was how he got the job at the garage.

“And you know how they’re friends of mine. Do you know what Mark does?” Steve asked.

Stiles did not, in fact, know what Mark did. He knew the man was Annie’s husband, and he’d talked to him a few times. But he wouldn’t say he was ‘close’ to him or knew him in any context outside of his wife.

“He’s a lawyer,” Steve said. “And when you’re ready, I think you should meet with him.” He didn’t tell Stiles why, he didn’t really have to.

Peter and Steve had already explained that they’d found enough evidence against Eichen House to shut the place down. But they also explained what the place was originally meant to be. And in the crash course of the supernatural, Stiles was fully aware there were some things out there, some creatures, that a normal jail wouldn’t hold. Short of killing them, Eichen was the only option.

But it couldn’t be allowed to exist as it was. What happened to Stiles should never have been possible. And he knew that between the two of them, Peter and Steve were making plans to do something about it.

“I thought you said… You said Eichen needed to stay.”

Steve gave him a grim smile. “Some of it. Yes. But what happened to you was, objectively, atrocious. What I’m talking about now is compensation.”

Stiles had never thought he’d be the type to sue anyone, but that was what Steve was suggesting. He told him he’d consider it. 

One week later, after Stiles and Jordan had moved their belongings into the loft, Annie and Mark came for dinner. So did Talia, Marcus, Steve, Peter and Cora. Although, the last three had been there everyday anyway.

Stiles was getting more comfortable in a group setting, but he’d yet to return to work or school. That had been the first thing Mark had approached with Stiles when he came for a visit the day after they’d moved in.

He already had the papers drawn to take to the school district office and argue that due to trauma, Stiles would not be attending full time. He would still come in for testing, but four out of five days would be spent in a remote learning environment.

It wasn’t necessarily Mark’s area of expertise, but he’d consulted with some colleagues, and felt confident in the application. What _was _his area was suing the hell out of Eichen House for every cent they had. And they had a lot.

The dinner at the loft was partly to get Stiles used to extended company again, but mostly, it was for Mark and Stiles to go over the paperwork for the suit. Marcus and Peter went over each page, line by line, and honestly? Stiles was happy for their support.

He’d spent some time, not alone, but still time with Marcus. It was obvious how much Cora loved her parents, and while he wasn’t family necessarily, they had treated him the exact same way they treated her so far.

It’d been a long time since a ‘parent’ had asked about his plans for anything, and he’d been convinced he would find the intrusion grating. Maybe it was because he could always double check for hidden motives if he wanted to, maybe not. But whatever the cause, he didn’t find their interest as stifling as he had feared. 

They had more dinners in the loft over the next few weeks, Mark came to some of them with Annie, so did Talia and Marcus. But mostly it was their original group from the night of the ‘incident’.

When Marcus brought up that Stiles was technically still a minor, he told his lawyer (_and how cool was that to say__)_ that he’d rather wait until he turned eighteen in November than open that whole barrel of dead monkeys.

Apart from school, Cora still came over most days. But during the week, Peter would drive them home at a decent hour after dinner so she could get some sleep and head off to school in the morning.

They still worked on their history report, and respective homework together, but Stiles really did only have to attend on Fridays. And even then, it was just to sit in a classroom and test out for the week. As long as his homework was turned in, and his scores were up-to-par, the school worked with his ‘special needs’. Mark was awesome like that.

Jordan had driven him to the school the first Friday back, and waited in the parking lot until he was done. But the next Friday, Stiles had come downstairs to see his Jeep sitting outside. Steve had gotten the Jeep fixed from where Stiles crashed into the trees. He wasn’t overly comfortable with the gift, especially considering he was living there rent free, but Steve asked him to wait until he had money in his pocket before worrying about things like ‘paying him back’.

Stiles’ discomfort at accepting gifts was why Peter decided to wait to bring up the land offer. That, and the fact that Stiles really did seem to enjoy working on fixing up the loft. Jordan too, for that matter.

The deputy, or former deputy, was beyond happy to quit the force and sign up to work for Steve. He did half days in the garage when Peter or Steve came to stay with Stiles, but his afternoons were spent helping out with the loft repairs.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Stiles to be alone. But it did make him uncomfortable. Steve had sat the two of them down one morning before Jordan left for a shift in the garage and explained that the bond between a young fae and their guardian was very special and sometimes bordering on codependent for the first few years.

Not every fae had the pull for a hellhound. But when a new fae came into their powers in a situation like Stiles did, where there were enemies closing in all around him, the universe or fate or whatever it was, paired them up to ensure the young one had a chance at survival.

Steve hadn’t needed one, neither had Claudia. But after what happened in Stiles’ childhood, he most certainly did.

When Jordan left, and it was just him and Steve, he decided to bring up the situation from the auto shop. “When we were in the garage,” Stiles started. “Back when everything happened…I wasn’t worried about survival.”

It’d been several, _several _weeks since that day, but Steve knew Stiles would’ve been thinking about what happened there. He’d been learning so much about his kind, and others from the books and conversations they’d had, but the moment of his awakening was something every fae remembered.

“I’m not surprised,” he told him. “You’d gone most of your life feeling powerless. To suddenly know that you had power, even if you didn’t know why or how, that can be an intoxicating feeling.”

“But I could’ve hurt you.” And it was something Stiles had struggled with internally since he came back to himself. It was something that he still felt guilt over.

He had looked at Steve in that garage, saw another powerful being, and had celebrated in the idea that he could hurt the man. It had been a line of thinking that was so alien to how he normally viewed things that it’d scared him.

Steve nodded and smiled back. “But you didn’t. You’re not a bad person, Stiles. You went through more shit than a kid should have to. But when it comes to who you are on the inside, the person you are at your core… It didn’t turn you into a bad person. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Stiles wanted to believe that. And maybe one day he would. But the fact that his brain had gone there so easily was something that he knew would eat at him for a while.

He’d discussed it earlier that week with Cora when they’d been looking over the book on fae history together. She’d read a disturbing passage, and after showing him the illustration on the page told him straight up, “That’s like some Dark Phoenix shit, for real. Be Jean Grey, Stiles. Be Jean Grey.” 

Back to the conversation with Steve, Stiles figured that since he had him there, he might as well get some answers on another thing that was on his mind lately. “What, um… What do you think of Peter?”

Steve was happily endeared by the question and indulged Stiles’ curiosity. “He’s a friend. I would go so far as to say he’s one of my closest friends. I would trust him with my life, or yours.”

He sat back on the couch, pretending to tick items off a checklist. “He’s a good fighter. He’s probably the most sarcastic person I know. He’s loyal. And when it comes to friends and family, betrayal is just not in his makeup.”

He didn’t want to just tell him the good things though. “He has a curiosity about everything and everyone, and sometimes that attention can feel slightly oppressive. He likes situations to work out in his favor, and has a tendency of doing whatever it takes to make that happen. But he sees people. Sometimes, I think he sees people better than I do. When he talks to someone, he’s listening for what’s _not _being said. And he’s the Hale pack’s left hand.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asked. “Cora mentioned it, but I still don’t know.”

Steve grinned but didn’t comment on the fact that Stiles had already asked Cora about his friend.

“Think of a company CEO,” he began, trying for an analogy that made sense. “You’ve got the right-hand man, the guy that’s up on the stage with them as a trusted advisor. The one people take pictures of and the one who’s name gets printed in the papers. That guy is good to have, and people will do things for him because they trust in him the same way they trust in the company. So, the CEO doesn’t have to really do the work himself, because his right hand takes care of it.”

Stiles nodded along, accepting the premise and Steve continued.

“But the CEO has two hands. And sometimes, the things that have to get done, can’t be on the front page. Sometimes, it has to be a shady deal in a back alley somewhere. And if that CEO was a werewolf, and the company was a pack, sometimes the thing that needs to be taken care of is bloody.

“The right hand is trusted. The left hand is feared. But both are respected if they’re good at what they do.”

“And Peter’s a left hand,” Stiles stated. It wasn’t a question.

“One of the best.”

* * *

In the next two months leading up to Stiles’ eighteenth birthday, he quit the diner officially. He’d gone back and tried for a few nights. And for those nights, things seemed to be okay. There were some regulars, older couples who’d been coming into the diner for a long time. They’d asked after him while he was gone, and when he came back, they were kind and sincere in hoping he was ‘feeling better’.

Everything looked like it was going to be okay. Until the third night. 

When Noah walked into the diner, he was off duty and in his civilian clothes. Stiles hadn’t actually seen him come in, he was busy taking an order for one of his tables. And Annie was in the back.

Which were all contributing factors to Chrissy, the new girl sitting him in Stiles’ section when he asked for it. Stiles refused to take the table and pulled his apron off while he went to find Annie. She could see he was shaking and called one of the other servers to take his section while they went out back.

Stiles didn’t smoke, but he understood why some of the servers came out here to do just that. He was full of energy, but none of it was good. Annie called Peter as soon as they were outside, and he showed up right before she went back in to tell Noah that Stiles wasn’t going to be able to take the table.

Peter had him out of there before he could even punch out. It was the last shift he worked.

When Stiles’ eighteenth birthday finally rolled around, they sued the fuck out of Eichen House. The facility settled within a week of the suit being filed with an eight-digit payout to avoid a trial. Besides the birthday present from Cora, a dvd of the movie _Elf_ with Will Farrell, it’s probably the best present he could’ve dreamed of.

The money didn't come in immediately, but it made Stiles feel better about not freeloading, no matter how much the others insisted that he wasn't.

Marcus sat down with Stiles in the loft shortly after they got the news to go over the finance situation. Stiles knew nothing about that whole business, but the Hales have money so they must know something.

And it’s not until they get that news that Peter asked Stiles to consider another gift. The land and potential house, if he still wants to build it.

It was just Peter and Steve in the loft when the alpha made the offer. Stiles had been writing down a grocery list in the kitchen. He put the list and the pen down on the counter and turned to face them.

“I’d like to show you the land before you say no,” Peter quickly added when he saw Stiles’ hesitance.

He shook his head and reassured him, “It’s not that. You said it’s in the trees, and I guess I kind of always thought… I just miss the treehouse sometimes.”

Steve let out a quiet laugh at that. “Go get your sketchbook.”

Stiles had brought everything that was _his_ when he and Jordan had moved into the loft. It wasn’t much, but it definitely included his art supplies. He hadn’t touched the book in a few weeks though. And the idea of drawing something up with Steve after so long was extremely appealing.

While he carried it back to them Steve told him to flop to the next open page, and he did. But there was something off about the last few sketches. They weren’t his.

“I told you to pull the bedrooms out of the middle,” Steve said at his look of bemusement.

Setting the book down on the counter, Stiles took in the outline of a house. It had the library he designed, an open living space, and two wings off to either side connected to the main structure by breezeways.

They were both two stories, and had a bedroom on top, but a bathroom and small living space on the ground floor. Something about the fact that the sleeping area was detached from the rest of the house, but still connected felt familiar and right.

It wasn’t his treehouse, but it was close. But then he noticed off to the side of the house, was a small shed looking piece. The dimensions were familiar.

“Is that…” he asked.

“That was Peter’s suggestion,” Steve announced, though the wolf in question had gone uncharacteristically quiet. “He wanted you to have it if you wanted it.”

Peter finally spoke up, telling them that they could get the whole thing moved onto the land as soon as the foundation was poured and sealed. “There’s another piece to that though, so it might be better if we walk the site before you decide.”

The other piece turned out to be an underground tunnel. Stiles didn’t know how he felt about the fact that there would be a tunnel under him, but Peter, and Cora when she got home from school, explained about how it had protected them from an attack in the past. 

Her excitement for Stiles to move to their territory in the preserve was unparalleled. And Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t get caught up in it a little.

Steve chimed in and casually mentioned that winter in California was a great time to build. When Stiles responded by insisting on doing as much of the work himself as possible, they resigned themselves to the fact that Peter’s face would be stuck in a state of elation for a long while. It got creepy after a few hours. 

When the work on the site actually started though, they all spent the majority of their free time helping out on the build. Cora and Stiles still had class work, and Jordan still pulled shifts at the garage. But Steve and Peter alternated between staying with Stiles in the loft to get his school work done and being onsite to help with the house.

Stiles had tried to bring his homework out to the build exactly one time, but after he got distracted by ‘helping out’ and getting nothing accomplished for class that day, Steve put his foot down.

He’d rolled his eyes at the man, but willingly accepted the new rule.

Shortly after Thanksgiving, when the construction was in full swing and flannels were the style of choice, even for Peter which always had Stiles smirking, Talia walked the ten miles out to the site from the main house. 

It was a Saturday, so they’d been going full swing by the time she’d arrived midday. She apologized for the inconvenience, but asked Stiles to take a walk with her. Peter was immediately on guard, having no idea what she wanted to discuss, and that wasn’t like her to keep secrets. Especially not from him.

But she gave him an understanding and pacifying look, and Stiles had agreed already, so he stepped back to the framing he was working on and tried to calm down his instinct to trail them at a distance and eavesdrop.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Stiles asked when they were a good distance away. He could tell by reading her that there was a tough conversation she wanted to have. He’d had his time, and she’d given him space.

And he liked her; he did. It still didn’t mean that whatever she wanted to talk about wasn’t going to suck. But Steve had told him he was strong enough to weather the worst storm, and he was trying to live up to that.

“No, I don’t think you will,” she confirmed. “But we still need to talk about it. Stiles…” It wasn’t like her to beat around the bush. In all the time he’d known her, he’d thought of her as the blueprint for Cora’s outspokenness. And she seemed to be attempting sensitivity with something.

“Just rip the Band-Aid off,” he told her. “I can take it.”

“Your father is selling the house and moving closer to Satomi Ito’s pack.”

And wow, did he not see that one coming. He stopped walking and took a deep breath before letting it back out slowly, “Okay.”

“Peter’s told you about Satomi, yes?” She waited until he indicated that yes, that had happened. “I spoke with her about Isaac and Scott after everything settled. Cora’s kept an eye on them in school, and I’m not seeing enough of an improvement in their behavior to feel comfortable leaving them without an alpha.”

Stiles was never more thankful to Mark than at that moment. He had secured Stiles’ financial future for him, which was beyond comprehension sometimes. But money meant very little if Stiles had to be in the same building as Isaac day in and day out.

He was doing real good with the crash course in harnessing his power and controlling his strength with Steve. Real good. But he didn’t know if he would trust himself around the other boy just yet. He remembered beating the shit out of Isaac before Jordan stopped him. And Cora’s little comment about Dark Phoenix hit a little too close to home there.

“It can’t be me,” Talia added. “Not with how close we are to you, and the fact that Peter would probably kill them both the first chance he got.”

It got a small chuckle out of Stiles and he ducked his head because yeah, Peter would totally do that for him.

Talia smiled warmly at his acknowledgement. “But they still need an alpha. Your father has accepted that and is going to make sure it happens.”

She told him about the sit-down she and Marcus had with Noah and Melissa about a week prior. There were some new rules being put in place in the Stilinski-McCall house. And it was one household now. When they moved, they would be moving together.

The two alphas were careful during that conversation with the parents to not come across as too much of an authority, that hadn’t gone over well in the past. Even when things were friendly.

They had explained their expectations for the territory. And had invited Satomi out to meet all four of them. The older wolf had arrived later that week with Laura. “She’s accepted them on her land on a probationary status. I’m not kicking them out of Beacon Hills, but with the hostility… Well, it makes things easier.”

“So, are they joining the Ito pack?” he asked.

“We don’t know yet. Laura will be going with them, she’s already found a place nearby. It’ll be good for her, I think, to get a little experience learning what it means to be an alpha from someone besides her mom.” She smiled teasingly at that, but it was good logic.

“Your father mentioned that he’d started Isaac and himself in family counseling. He asked me to offer to te…”

“No.” Stiles cut her off with a quick shake of his head before she could finish. “No.”

She accepted his decision. “Well, I only said I’d mention it. Come on, let’s start back before Peter jumps out from the bushes. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s been this patient.”

He laughed at that, and when they got back he sent her an amused expression from Peter practically bounding over to ask what kept them so long.

When she explained about Laura and the Stilinski-McCall move to Ito territory, Peter snorted and said, “Good luck with that, then. She’s going to need it.”

The next day, Sunday, saw them all out at the site again, but not for the build. With Stiles’ old house going on the market, he’d wanted to transplant some of the back garden to the new site.

The foundation was already set, and framework started on the house, and the treehouse had already been moved, so the boundary line of the clearing wasn’t in danger of big construction vehicles disrupting the ground. It wasn’t the best season to be planting in, but a house like his old one wouldn’t be on the market for long.

Despite the cooler temperatures, all five of them had worked up a sweat by the time the last rosebush was in the ground. Steve had left first, needing to be at the garage for an early morning delivery.

Peter and Jordan walked up to the two teenagers as Cora was cackling at something Stiles had said. “Wait, wait, wait… You want to put _sheep_ on a land owned by werewolves…” she laughed again. “Cause that’ll go over well.”

“What’s this about sheep?” Peter asked as they got closer, taking the shovel from his niece before she could cause any damage to the bushes they’d _just _planted.

“It doesn’t have to be sheep,” Stiles grumbled back. “But maybe some chickens… that sounds nice.”

That had Cora falling into another laughing fit. “Oh yeah, that’s _so_ much better.”

“Well it’s your fault!” He accused. “You’re the one with all those websites on living off-grid and doing that homestead thing.”

“Well I think that sounds lovely, darling.” Peter said, seriously. “We can have the guys come back out and clear another acre next week.”

Cora giggled at her uncle, but at least the crowing had stopped. Stiles rubbed a hand on the back of his head like he did every time Peter used an endearment. It wasn’t all the time, but it made him blush when it happened.

Jordan rolled his eyes and asked Cora if she wanted to head back to the house with him and clean up. Then offered to take her out to ‘grab a bite.’

Which had Stiles swiveling his head over, shocked mouth hanging open and silent. Somehow, and he had no idea how, he refrained from making _any_ comment when Cora looked at Jordan and demurely, _demurely!, _accepted.

A quick glance over to Peter had him obeying the tiny headshake from the alpha, and he remained silent as the two of them walked down the dirt path, away from the cars, to the main Hale house.

“They do know that’s a ten-mile walk, right?” He finally asked when they were alone.

Peter tilted his head, still looking down the road, “Oh, I’m pretty sure they know.”

He helped Stiles gather the shovels and the gardening supplies, stacking them all next to the treehouse before walking the boundary of the garden they’d just put in. And Peter points out that it is in fact a boundary. Stiles was a little shocked when he reached out with his senses and picked up on the definite perimeter line around the place. He didn’t even realize he was doing it.

It was the first time he’d been truly alone with Peter in a couple weeks though, and he had a question he wanted answered more than the apparently effortless wards he’d just created.

He started by mentioning a book that Peter loaned him, he’d been doing a lot of that. The one he was referencing in particular had a lot of werewolf customs in it. “Peter…” he was silent for more than a few moments. “… are you courting me?”

“What makes you say that?” Peter asked, looking out over the construction site.

“The house,” Stiles said matter of factly. “The food, and the books, and the guard dog routine were factors, but mostly, the house.”

“And how would you feel if it was courting?”

Stiles laughed. “God, it’s like pulling teeth with you…”

“Yes,” Peter breathed out in a rush, before he could say anything else. “Yes, I meant it as a courting gift.”

Stiles smiled slowly, a blush rapidly forming on his cheeks. “Oh. Okay. So, about these gardens…”

Peter’s brain almost short circuited at the subject change. Stiles didn’t say anything else about it, but his heartrate stayed slightly elevated, and his scent was all sorts of pleased contentedness.

“Do you want to see something?” Peter asked. If Stiles wanted to redirect from that topic, he could do that. He could take things slow.

When Stiles looked back at him with interest he continued. “I told you there was a vault below us, but you never saw it.”

It was under the ‘porch’ area they’d put in for the treehouse. When he nodded his agreement, Peter used his claws on a hidden section of the concrete, and part of it slid away, revealing a set of stairs underground.

Stiles was impressed, but it was dark inside, and for a moment felt a thrum of fear go through him as images of a dark tunnel with green lights came into his mind.

Peter picked up on the spike of anxiety immediately and told him that they don’t have to go down, but Stiles wanted to. Much to the wolf’s surprise, but very much welcome, he took Peter’s hand.

In fact, he held Peter’s hand for the entire tour. It was big, and he was happy to see there were a lot of overhead lights to turn on when they got down there. Peter showed him where the tunnel was, the one that would lead back to the main house. And he went over how it was only a Hale that could open the door. But Stiles was intrigued by all of the cool ‘artifacts’ in the room, that they ended up staying down there for almost an hour.

When they came back up to the surface, the treehouse was right there, and Stiles didn’t really feel like driving back to the loft for the night. He’d already moved his things back into his ‘room’ after they’d had it stabilized on the concrete, and the comfort of his old bed was calling to him.

He invited Peter to stay.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked after a few moments of shock. But Stiles could see the man’s desire to say yes. He could feel it.

He rolled his eyes and told him it wasn’t a problem when Cora shared the bed back at the house. So, this wouldn’t be much different.

And okay. Peter had been expecting to sleep on the floor. But okay…

At his hesitance, Stiles got a little self-conscious, despite what he could feel. “I mean, we’ve been working out here for a while, I probably smell. So I understand…”

“No, no. It’s fine, you smell fine,” Peter quickly reassured him. God was he a teenager? But at least his awkwardness got a bashful grin out of Stiles. “Although I do have some wet wipes in the car… if you wanted.”

Stiles full out laughed at that and walked in the treehouse, leaving Peter standing on the porch. He did end up going back to his car for those wet wipes, but quickly followed after him.

Stiles may have brought his things back to his room, but that didn’t include a change of clothes, since he’d never kept them there in the first place. They don’t have sleep clothes, so Peter decided to take his cue from Stiles.

Apparently, the young elf was comfortable in boxers. Okay. God he was beautiful. Peter’s brain shut down a little at the sight of clothes coming off, and then Stiles started using the wet wipes… Okay now he needed to say something.

“Stiles, are you… I mean we don’t have to share…”

Stiles smiled and pulled the thick comforter back on the bed. It might be California, but it was still winter. And Stiles had learned over years spent sleeping in the treehouse that having a decent comforter could make the difference between a nice warm sleep, and nearly freezing to death.

“It really wasn’t a problem with Cora,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at Peter’s gob smacked self.

“Yes,” Peter cleared his throat, seeming to get some control over his speech at last. “But I doubt you and Cora slept in just boxers. On a twin bed. And I know for a fact that my niece wasn’t courting you when you did.”

“Is it a problem for you?”

Peter hung his head and sighed. “Stiles… the problem isn’t that I don’t want to.”

Stiles straightened up and looked Peter over with an assessing glance. “Peter, I’m not offering sex. I’m offering sleep. Maybe one day… but right now, I just want to sleep. I don’t want to be alone. And I want you here. If, if you want that.”

And that settled it. Peter was staying.

“But use those wet wipes before you come to bed,” Stiles added with a smug grin.

Waking up to a sleeping Stiles burrowed into his chest the next morning was one of the best days Peter could remember ever having. Ever.

Even if it turned out Stiles drooled in his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the wrap up is here! Stayed tuned for part 2, it's coming up soon!


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

** _Two Years Later_ **

* * *

“Are they here?” Stiles asked, a slight smile on his face that was more anticipation than anything else. He was standing in the new barn about four miles out from his house. Cora was next to him, bouncing in her own perpetual state of excitement.

He supposed her happy energy was answer enough.

They had a delivery of six new horses coming in from the Litchfield off-range corral. Derek and Peter had driven two long trailers up to get them, as well as a few of the burros available for adoption.

They already had other horses, not wild-born, in the main stables. Those were used for clients, and they were all great. But Stiles and Cora were beyond excited for the new arrivals. They had their own barn, paddocks, and seven acres of field to graze in if they didn’t mesh well with the older, domestic horses.

Had Stiles tried to imagine two years ago where he’d be when he was turning twenty, he would not have said it would be standing in a barn waiting for wild horses. Certainly not planning on spending the next month or so getting no sleep as he joined Cora, Jordan, Peter, and Derek working to get them socialized and settled in.

But that’s where this November found him.

Peter and Derek were coming in late; the sun having already gone down by the time he saw the headlights coming up the tree-covered road.

Getting the new arrivals out and into their respective areas took about as long as he’d anticipated, and by the time he was heading home it was already 11:00.

Thankfully, he and Cora had already had dinner, and Derek and Peter had grabbed a quick bite on the road. So by the time he was home and showered, he fell almost immediately into a deep, restful sleep. 

In the years since moving to Hale territory, Stiles’ house had been finished, and a two-acre farm had been established. It wasn’t anything crazy, mostly crops.

But he got those chickens he’d wanted, much to Cora’s amusement.

Cora had recently moved into the second wing of the house, and Stiles couldn’t be happier. Talia insisted on her living in the main house until she turned eighteen, which he thought was absolutely reasonable, even if Cora herself didn’t.

There’d been a lot of arguments on that issue between mother and daughter. But Steve and Jordan had taken a walk with Cora one day, after a pretty ugly fight. They were gone for hours, hiking in the preserve. But by the time they got back to Stiles’ house, Talia was there looking frazzled.

Stiles never asked what the three of them talked about on that hike, but after a weepy Cora threw herself at her mom, crying about how she was _sorry_, he figured he didn’t need to ask. She never argued with Talia again. Not just on the living arrangements, on pretty much anything.

Whatever the two men had said to her had Cora maturing just enough to consider Talia’s position on a matter, even if it didn’t line-up with her own.

When she turned eighteen though, Talia and Marcus were both there to help move her things into the second wing of Stiles’ house.

It was a happy time, even if the two Hale alpha’s were sad to see their house grow a little emptier.

Laura had never returned.

And after a year of living on the land, and integrating more and more into the Hale pack, Stiles wasn’t surprised at all.

After _‘the incident’_ at his father’s old house, Stiles and Cora still had a year and some change left in high school. Which meant Isaac and Scott still had that same amount of time as well.

While Stiles withdrew from the school completely, choosing to finish his high school career at home and earning his GED almost half a year early, Cora relocated to Devenford Prep.

It was in Ito territory, although it was closer to Beacon Hills than it was to the main Ito pack house. Initially she was wary at the suggestion from her parents when they brought it up. Isaac and Scott had relocated to Ito territory, and she had no interest in leaving Beacon Hills High and it’s stuck up student body, only to run into the instigators of the whole mess at the new school.

But Devenford Prep was not a public school. Students were accepted there based on academic merit. And while Cora had the grades to get in, neither of the two new wolves did.

She’d agreed eventually, and was enrolled for her senior year. It turned out to be a great final year for her. The classes were tougher, but she thrived under the high expectations of the faculty and the students themselves.

She still helped out at the house and farm, and did chores around the main Hale house. But the heavier course load meant she only had time to work with Steve on the weekends. Marcus was happy to drive her where she needed to be until finally, on her seventeenth birthday, she got her driver’s license and a car.

There had been _a lot_ of practice between the first time Stiles took her out and her seventeenth birthday. _A lot._

And since Jordan had stepped down from the deputy position, she’d had to attend an actual class. But no one was surprised when she and Marcus returned from the final driver’s test driving a new Jeep Wrangler.

Jordan had moved into the open bedroom in the main area of the new house. Steve had said he and Stiles would feel the need to be close to each other, and they absolutely did. While the house was still being built, it was understood that the guest room beside the library was really going to be Jordan’s room.

And while Cora was eighteen now, and completely moved into the second wing, Jordan had remained in his own room. Which was interesting because they were soulmates. He said that he wanted to take things slow, but they’d know about it for years.

Stiles and Peter had a bet going about when his things were going to start magically appearing in her rooms. Peter had bet it would happen within a few months, but Stiles cheated a little and checked in with how they were feeling. Cora seemed to appreciate her space a little bit more than Peter was anticipating, so Stiles voted for at least a full year.

It had been amusing to watch the two in the beginning. Jordan had noticed his soul mark was on Cora back when the three of them were bunking in the treehouse.

Shortly after they’d moved into the loft, he had spoken to Talia and Marcus about it. He was initially worried about telling her because of her age, and his argument had been that he wanted her to be able to have the same opportunity for a normal young adult experience he did.

“She’s sixteen,” he told them, sitting in the Hale house study running shaky hands through his hair.

Talia had smiled at his concern but assured him, “Jordan, you’re a good man. We’ve seen you with Stiles and trust you with Cora. I’m sure if you talked to her about this you’ll see it’s not as dire as all this.”

“I just don’t want her to feel pressured, or rushed,” he sighed. “I’m in a place right now where Stiles has to be my main focus. And he’s her best friend. If I tell her, and it’s not what she wants, what does that do to the pack? To her and Stiles?”

Talia and Marcus weren’t stupid. They had already felt how Peter was becoming the central alpha of a new Hale pack out at the new house.

Jordan lived with Stiles, and wherever Stiles was, Peter was. And that of course included Steve. And Cora had already made her intentions known that she would follow her uncle.

In a way, it felt like Talia and Marcus were evolving into more of a Pack Elder role, despite not being ‘elders’. Though Peter had been sure to let them know that his deference was still to Talia in most matters.

“Do you have any reason to believe she would reject you?” Marcus asked the young hellhound.

Jordan shook his head slowly, thinking back to their interactions. “No, I just… I… She’s sixteen.”

He laughed at that. “Son, just take it slow. Let her know what’s going on, and where you stand. But I think you might be surprised about Cora’s ability to understand someone else’s point of view.”

“She can come across a bit brash,” Talia added. “But Cora has always been able to tap into an enormous well of empathy when she needs to.”

He left the discussion feeling better about things, though still a little anxious. About a week after the talk, when he was helping to transplant Stiles’ garden onto the new land, he asked Cora if she would take a walk back to the main house.

It was a long walk, very long. But it gave them time to talk about things. To his utter shock, Cora already knew.

“You wore tee-shirts, dude. Of, course I saw it.”

“And you’re not…” Words were hard. But Cora took pity on him.

“I’m not saying we should run away together or anything,” she told him. “Duh. I don’t even have my license yet. But I mean, if you wanted to, I don’t know? Take it slow? We could do that.”

He didn’t know how it was possible for someone to sound so ‘sixteen’ and ‘adult’ in one sentence, but there it was. His soulmate. And even though her words were spoken with bold assertion, Jordan could see the blush on her cheeks. It matched his own.

So they took it slow, and kept it to themselves for a while. Though he was sure Peter and Stiles could tell based on the looks the two of them had given him every now and then. But the fact that no one pushed took away some of the tension, so he was thankful for that.

Plus, Peter and Stiles had their own thing going on that no one asked about. After that first walk with Cora, he noticed the alpha was never too far from Stiles’ side. Until they finished the house and moved out of the loft, Jordan took over getting Cora back home at night.

By the time he returned to their apartment, Stiles and Peter were usually already up in the elf’s room. Asleep.

In a way, he was a little shocked that Stiles felt comfortable enough with the man to have him close all the time. But in another way, it soothed his anxiety about leaving Stiles alone as often as he was.

Steve said it was good for them, Jordan and Stiles. Their bond was strong, but having a pack to step in and share the load was good to keep their codependency down to a much more manageable setting. Jordan trusted Peter to keep Stiles safe. And the distance allowed him to incorporate his soulmate into his daily goings-on.

Over time, it felt like family to him. And Steve told him one night that _that_ is what a pack was supposed to feel like.

* * *

A few months after the house was complete, which was close to a year after Stiles had moved out of his father’s home, Derek came back.

Peter had talked to Stiles about Derek when they were still living in the loft. Steve and Jordan were both present for that discussion. Not wanting to crowd Stiles, but knowing it might be a difficult talk.

Derek had written Stiles a letter.

Marcus delivered it to Peter and asked that he share it. Peter loved his nephew, and after talking to his brother-in-law, and Derek himself, he understood what happened had likely been influenced by outside sources. Perhaps a druid they knew well. They still hadn’t tracked down Deucalion and Alan, though they had plenty of feelers out.

But the actual rejection was due in part to where Stiles’ head had been at the time. Peter had gone over, and over the events that led up to the burning of the soul mark on Stiles’ arm. And while Derek’s behavior may have been dismissive, Stiles was primed to take it in the worst way possible.

On anyone else, the rejection would have needed to be explicit. Hell, that’s exactly how it had been for Peter. But for Stiles, it hadn’t taken much.

It was a very delicate conversation to have, breaking down all the moving parts of the situation, while being careful to stay away from any ‘victim blaming’ suggestions.

But Stiles had already gone over it on his own, introspective young man that he was. He knew exactly what happened. And while he didn’t feel a pull to Derek, he recognized that they had been soulmates, almost.

He didn’t express remorse to the group during the talk. But at the end, he softly asked Peter, “Can I have the letter?”

Peter had pressed his lips together in a tight, sympathetic line and handed it over.

Stiles was gone, sequestered away in his room for nearly an hour before returning to them. The letter was no where to be seen, and the other men in the room could tell he’d been crying recently, but all he said was, “You’re leaving?”

Peter dropped his head and confirmed that yes, he was. “But only for a few weeks. After that, I’m back to stay.”

Stiles simply nodded. He didn’t ask about Derek; he didn’t mention him at all. And he didn’t share what was in the letter. But judging by how thick the envelope had been, they knew Derek had said a lot. They were ready to give him his space, but he casually walked into the kitchen and started pulling food out onto the counter.

“Who’s helping me with dinner?” he asked.

Peter shared a brief look of apprehension and relief with Jordan and Steve, but quickly got up to join Stiles in the food prep.

They didn’t say another word about it, and when the time came later that week for Peter to leave, Stiles gave him a slightly apathetic hug and wished him safe travels. 

Peter had agreed to take Derek down to South America for three weeks when he’d said he wanted to get away for a while. It was good, in the way that it gave the two men time to reconnect. But also in the way that he could ‘finish the job’ by helping the Castillo pack settle back into their territory now that the alpha pack was gone.

He hated the fact that he was gone from Stiles, especially after the detached behavior from the young man in the days leading up to his departure. But he took a page from his nephews book, and sent Stiles letters and postcards for every day that he was gone.

He didn’t get any back, but he’d written in his first letter that he didn’t expect one, and they were meant as a small courting gesture for the young man. His reward came when he returned on schedule, and Stiles met him at the door with a tight embrace filled with warmth and acceptance.

Derek had decided to stay with the Castillo pack for a while. It was good for him to be away, and he’d explained to Peter before he left that he felt good being useful down there for now.

In the nine months that he stayed with them, he’d gotten a crash course in their family business: ranch work. His main function on the ranch had been caring for the horses.

When he left, he’d purchased one of the horses to bring back. A beautiful four-year-old Gruella stallion, already over fifteen hands, that he’d helped gentle. They’d offered it for free, but he’d said it was a gift and he wanted to pay for it.

He’d given it to Stiles.

There had been some correspondence between the two of them while Derek was away. Nothing like the frequency that Peter had set, but enough that Stiles wrote back, and Derek was able to return to a tentative friendship between the two of them.

Peter had also written to Derek, keeping him up to date on the build at the elf’s new house, as well as the expansion of the land into a small farm site. In return, Derek had shared his plans for the gift with his uncle. Which gave Peter enough time to convince Stiles to let him put up a small stall area and clear out a small field on the land near the house.

Though he never told Stiles that the addition of a horse to the land would be coming from Derek specifically.

While the horse had been gentled somewhat, it was still very much a spirited creature. It’d calmed for Derek, sometimes. But no one else. When he introduced the young horse to Stiles, he was surprised to find his fears of it being intolerant of others disappeared.

“We’ve been calling him Casimiro,” Derek told him around a quiet laugh. “It means ‘Destroyer of Peace.’ And that’s exactly what he was when I started working with him. He’s not usually like this with new people.”

But the horse was calm when Stiles reached a hand up to brush along his mane, and calm when he continued with long strokes down his flanks. Nothing like the irritation he typically showed when one of the Castillo pack tried the same action.

It was the introduction of Casimiro, or Cas as Stiles usually called him, that brought about the ideas for the trail riding business. And it was something that Derek could help Stiles with.

He’d gotten his bachelors in business from his time in New York, but once he got back from staying with the Castillo pack down south, and the idea of a keeping a full stable formed, he enrolled in an online university to finish his masters.

They were opening up the business before that would be finished, but Steve had sat with him and Stiles, and of course Cora, to go over the basics.

Steve had always been a mentor to Stiles, and would’ve been quite happy to have the young man continue in the mechanic or woodworking company with him. But he was just as happy, and proud, to be able to guide him in opening his own venture. 

Every morning, after seeing to the immediate needs of his little gardens, Stiles took Cas on a ride from the small paddock on his land out to the main stables.

After they were built of course.

They sat about four miles away from their house, closer to the edge of the preserve, although in a different direction than the main Hale house.

Sometimes Stiles stayed in the stables and helped out with the business there. Although after Annie had been coerced and cajoled into joining them and running the front office, things ran pretty smoothly without him.

Steve had watched him with Casimiro for the first week that Stiles had him, and laughed at the ease he had with the horse. It didn’t come naturally to every fae, but Stiles seemed to have an innate affinity for nature and animal husbandry.

His gardens, though small, always provided a harvest for all of their tables: Steve’s, the main Hale house’s, and Stiles’ own house. His work with the chickens, and yes he got those goats no thanks to Cora, had given Steve his first look at how Stiles just seemed to _read_ the animals and know what they needed.

So, the laidback approach to working with the horse wasn’t really a shock to him. By the time his protégé was turning twenty and getting in new, wild horses at the stables, he wasn’t concerned in the least. 

But sometimes Stiles still took one of the trucks and met Steve in the lofts to help with the conversion there, or in the shop behind the garage to work on whatever project he had going.

Building something from nothing still held too much enjoyment for him to abandon it completely.

A little while after the new horses were settled in, and the constant need for desensitization had trickled down something less than ‘all day-every day’ Stiles left the stables to Cora, Derek, and Annie’s very competent hands in order to spend a few days in Steve’s workshop building a large oak table.

It was going to be a housewarming gift for Derek, who’d recently moved into the loft that Stiles and Jordan originally shared.

Stiles was happily telling Peter all about it after getting back one night while the man cooked a pasta dish on the stove that smelled too mouthwatering for Stiles to stay away from.

When Peter suggested they could put a woodworking shop on the land, close to the house for him, Stiles had rolled his eyes and accused the wolf of “trying to keep me from ever leaving.”

Peter huffed as Stiles squeezed him from behind, the action softening the accusation as he peered over the older man’s shoulder to get a look at what he was cooking on the stove.

“Well, yes,” he returned with an obvious confidence in the logic. “You’ve uncovered my evil plans to provide for your wants and desires. Now, taste this would you... more salt?”

Stiles took the offered spoon and titled his head in consideration after trying a bite. “More Worcheshire,” he corrected.

Peter gave a hum of agreement and went to grab the bottle.

“But I like that those things take me away from here,” Stiles mentioned, continuing the earlier train of thought. “I love this. I love all of this, the house, the farm… the chickens,” he added around a snicker. “But I think that if you just gave me everything within arm’s reach, I’d never leave. What motivation would I have?”

Peter set the spoon down to rest on a coaster and turned around to face Stiles, eyebrows raised in a way that implied, _Exactly, and the problem is?_

But he was also fully aware that it wasn’t the healthiest thing for either of them to stay cooped up. And if he needed to goad Stiles into speaking that truth by playing the counterargument, he would. 

His boy was too smart for that. Stiles gave him a narrow-eyed look of contemplation. “You knew I’d say that.”

“Yes,” Peter grinned back. “And I’m happy you feel that way. Getting out and visiting friends, or spending time on a job that’s not within the safety of your wards is good. It keeps you from being isolated and not knowing what’s going on around you.”

When Stiles looked at Peter, he didn’t see a man almost twice his age. And he knew that when Peter looked at Stiles, he didn’t see a bambi-eyed, naive kid. But there were moments where he was quietly happy that Peter was willing and able to help him sort through his thoughts and get to the best outcome.

“The offer’s still on the table, though,” Peter added, opening cupboards to pull out some bowls. “Go let Cora know dinners ready.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the offer, leaned over to give the alpha a quick kiss, and did as requested.

“Cora!” He shouted through the open door leading to her breezeway, “Dinner’s ready!”

Peter huffed out a laugh and sent Stiles a look of chagrin when he came back, but couldn’t stop the feeling of fond adoration from welling up. And another glance at Stiles' face let him know that the other man was very much aware.

The feeling he got back from Stiles, because they could do that now, left him with only one word to describe it: _Beloved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are! Thank you all for the comments and kudos, they really meant so much to me as I was writing this! The last chapter took a little longer due to rl getting in the way... I hate it when it does that, but you were all so awesome. Seriously, I can't thank you enough for the steady influx of encouragement! 
> 
> Update: This story now has a sequel!
> 
> Update again: It’s super unfortunate, and I’m really sorry, but comment moderation was turned on for this fic. There were some really unhappy readers (2 so far) who let me know in detail that they were extremely upset with the lack of specific trigger warnings.
> 
> This fic was in no way intended to re-traumatize anyone who felt like Stiles’ experiences mirror their own. To try and mitigate that possibility, I have added as many possible trigger warnings i could think of, and crisis hotline information in the authors notes on chapter 1. 
> 
> But to prevent the comments section on this fic from becoming a spectacle, I felt moderation was necessary.


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